In the Head of the Snake
by WonderWhiteRabbit
Summary: Severus Snape needs to teach Harry how to block out his mind, but now he has another student to worry about-one who has a will twice that of Potter's and an unnerving way of getting what she wants. Ginny Weasley has some secrets buried in a deep chamber..
1. Chapter 1  Thoughts

**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 1: Thoughts

Snape gave a great sigh as he slumped against his desk. The dank and dark room still echoed with the ghost of the slammed door. A bead of sweat trickled slowly down his forehead. He wiped it away tiredly.

He wasn't physically tired; his patience was what was tired. Actually, it was more like exhausted. If Harry Potter didn't get the hang of Oclumens soon, then he would fall straight into the Dark Lord's hands. And what with the way things were going now, that would be the most likely end to the Wizarding World's only hope.

_Only hope_. That's what Dumbledore said at least…but it didn't make sense; he was just a boy! How could he possibly confront the world's darkest wizard and still live? Or maybe he wasn't supposed to live. Dumbledore wasn't being very clear about anything these days. Did he suspect him, Severus Snape, of being a traitor? No…if anything, Dumbledore understood his feelings better than anyone else. Despite the Dark Lord having frequent visits into his mind, the Dark Lord knew nothing – not even the smallest glimpse of truth – at what lay in his heart.

With that thought, his chest skipped a beat. This Occlumens lesson had been worse for him to bear than the boy. Not only did he have to live with the guilt of Lily's death every day, but now he had witnessed it. The boy hadn't seen much as an infant, but the screams were very loud in his mind, and very, very real in Snape's as well. Harry had probably not known that the green light that he saw devouring his mother's form was that of the killing curse – not until last year of course.

Snape berated himself once more for that fatal year. Of course he had known that the Dark Lord was getting more powerful, but he had failed to act sooner. What could he have done? Left Hogwarts to avenge the death of Lily Potter? He couldn't have done anything; he had to be at school to watch over Lily's son…not that he had helped much – the boy had still wound up in the clutches of that mass murderer.

He reached subconsciously towards his left arm. When the Dark Lord had gained power, he had known immediately. The tattoo had never been that bright since the man's demise and the power that had soared through his veins at the summons had been enough pain to realise his worst fear; the Dark Lord was back.

His arm tingled slightly at his touch. The black mark that forever patented him as an enemy still burnt slightly from his last summons. He had had to rush back to Hogwarts to meet the boy in time for the lesson. Harry had been curious – as always – as to why Snape was late, but Snape had shut him up very quickly; the less the boy knew, the better.

Yes, the less he knew the better. Slowly, Severus Snape moved to his shelf. Stored carefully next to pickled boomslang skin was an oval bowl filled with grey mist that swirled as he brought the bowl down. The pensieve was a helpful tool, especially during these times. Potter had managed to break through Snape's thoughts just the once and that was enough shame for Snape to bear. If the boy found out…if he knew…he would never be able to forgive himself – not as if he did now in any case.

He swirled the pensieve slowly, watching as the mist changed from memory to memory. Dumbledore had entrusted the bowl to him with strict orders: he must not look at the other memories in it. Snape was not stupid; he knew that whatever other secrets were entrapped in the pensieve must be of great importance. The mist changed from a straggle haired boy with a long pointed nose busy writing Defence against the Dark Arts to that of a man with a face long since abandoned by his original striking features.

Snape stared at the face of Siruis Black in the pensieve. That man…why was _he_ Harry Potter's god father? Yes, he had been James Potter's best friend, but he was hardly god father material. A smirk crossed his lips as the memory started to progress. This would put him in a good mood.

He walked carefully to his table and sat down as the image slowly rose out of the mist and proceeded to enact the past.

"You can't expect Harry to just get it immediately!" shouted the image of Sirius into the empty room.

"He's just like his father – too stubborn to see past his aversions." An image of Sirius's old time friend appeared. Lupin looked harassed and his clothes were torn worse than normal. Snape sneered at the man's state. If he was a werewolf, then he should be more prepared for his changing each full moon, yet Lupin was continuously turning a blind eye to the nature of his circumstances, as if ignoring them would cure him of his disease.

"What are you implying? That Harry should learn to trust this – this – " Sirius struggled to find an appropriate name for Snape.

"Traitor?" offered Snape. "I know it's on the tip of your tongue, dog. Just say it. Unless you have any other sweeter names you'd like to call me?"

"This isn't helping Snape," growled Lupin.

"And neither, as I have heard, have you been," sniped Snape.

"What do you mean?"

"Well apparently our tame werewolf hasn't been keeping up his end of the bargain. The underground not your type is it?"

"It takes time Snape!" Lupin said through gritted teeth. "The underground is a lot harder to infiltrate than you seem to think."

"And it's not as if you're doing anything of great importance either," leered Sirius.

"What I am doing is better than sitting around house cleaning," said Snape dryly.

Lupin had to restrain Siruis as he pushed his chair back viciously and reached for his wand.

"Oh please do," begged Snape. "I would love to put you in your place after all these years."

"You could never put James 'in his place,'" whispered Sirius. "He was always better than you. At everything. With everyone."

"If you want to say something, Black, then say it straight." Snape's face was a blank page and his voice was emotionless.

"I don't need to read minds to know things," said Sirius relaxing back into his chair as his victory seemed in plain sight.

"Lupin, do you know what your, ehhem, _friend_ is blabbering on about?"

"Actually," said Lupin slowly, "I don't."

Sirius's look of surprise was genuine.

"You don't?" he asked Lupin.

"No, I don't. Not at all actually."

The watching Snape laughed aloud at the shocked look on Sirius's face in the pensieve. The man actually had it right, but no one would believe him. That Severus Snape would love Lilly Evens was beyond anyone's imaginations. The only person who would have any idea of sorts would be Sirius. With another laugh, he viciously whirled the pensieve so that the shocked face fell into mist and dissolved into a swirling mass.

He sighed again and leant back into his chair, his eyes closed. In his momentary lapse of relaxation, another memory floated to the top of the pensieve, unnoticed by Snape. He snapped his eyes open when he heard Dumbledore's voice.

"You cannot come to the castle, Sirius. Be reasonable."

"He's torturing my godson!" barked the man angrily.

"Severus would never do anything to harm Harry. I would greatly appreciate it if you would do as I have done, and give him a second chance. After all, before Harry knew the truth about you, he was willing to give you the chance to tell your side of the tale. Perhaps you should take a quill out of his parchment, and o the same."

There was a pause before Sirius said softly, "Hear out Snape?"

"Or perhaps just try and understand him. You are both so alike after all."

"Alike?" spat Sirius. "I'm no more the same as him as a hippogriff is to a dragon!"

"If you put it like that," chuckled Dumbledore, "you both have claws and jaws. And ears. You use the first two so well, why not master the third?"

Sirius stood dumbstruck, not knowing whether Dumbledore was making fun of him or not, as the mirage slid back into the stone basin.

Snape was shocked. So that would explain it! The bottle of Elvish mead, the invitation to dinner. At first he had thought it was that weak woman, Molly Weasly, who was trying to make peace, but… no…

Dumbledore had planted that memory there. Snape nodded at his own conclusion. Dumbledore, and his sly ways. Never too far apart but far enough never to be expected. Dumbledore wanted Snape to stop fighting with Sirius. He wanted them to be…dare he think it…_friends_.

An involuntary shiver ran down his spine at the thought of it. He and Sirius. Friends. He didn't even know what the word meant!

But Dumbledore seemed to have great faith in the idea of friendship. Whatever he had planned for Harry, he certainly had something planned for that Granger and Weasley. Granger he could understand. Despite her annoying ability of reciting everything she had read in a book, at least that knowledge could come in handy. He smirked; come in handy if ever the boy needed to answer a quiz to beat the Dark Lord.

The Weasley boy – now he was a problem. If anything, he was just a whimpering coward hiding behind older siblings and better friends.

Snape caught himself. Was he implying to himself that Harry Potter actually had some potential after all?

Snape sighed. He really was tired. Laboriously he got up and walked to a solid wall of the dungeon. It had taken some persuading on Dumbledore's part to let him have this secret passage, but it was worth it to get to his bed. He swept his hand in an arch over his head and the wall melted away to reveal a green-lit tunnel. Bed sounded good. He might even be tired enough not to dream tonight.

Perhaps some of that mead would go down well with some cauldron cakes from the kitchen. Ascending the stairs, he mumbled, "I'll have to test the mead though."


	2. Chapter 2  Memories

**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 2: Memories

Snape had tested the mead on a young house elf who was devoted to him since his school years. He never understood why the elf liked him so much, but he never bothered asking – elves were simple creatures after all.

He lay awake and stared at the roof of his room. It was quiet here, in his special room. He could hear nothing of the school around him. He was in silence. He was alone. His arm twinged.

What was he thinking? Every night, he climbed the stairs to the top of the hidden tower and hid himself from the world, but there was one man who was always with him…who never left his left side…

Why had he been so foolish? To join a gang! What a foolish, childish, immature thing to do! Then Snape stopped his thoughts – the boy was doing exactly that. He had formed a gang. Snape had seen it in his mind. The boy was doing relatively well teaching the others. Snape smirked as the word "impressed" entered his mind. But then…what would Lily have said to this sudden turn in events? Yes, the boy was famous. But that was for events that he had had no control over. A twang of guilt hit him. He, Severus Snape, had had the control over those events. And he had lost that control. Lily's sweet visage appeared before him, her green eyes sparkling with a smile across her face. Angry, Severus yelled incoherently. What must he do to rid himself of his own past?

He saw the boy. Harry Potter. Once more, why was Severus not the boy's godfather? Why had Lily not fought on his behalf?

Because she didn't trust him.

The simple answer was enough to crush Secerus into a deep depression. He needed sleep. He needed to get away from his life.

Getting up from his bed, he made his way to a small cabinet. Crushing together some honey-weed and dung beetles, he hummed to himself.

The song was one that Lily had sung to him. She had made it up one summer's holiday while the two swung gaily on the swings.

"Don't stop singing," Severus had said. "Ever."

"Why?" asked the girl.

"You always smile when you sing," blushing, he added, "and you're pretty when you smile."

"You think so?" she had asked.

Oh how innocent she was. How absolutely and completely pure.

He sprinkled the now white-powder into a cup and added a few pre-prepared ingredients. He had his night-time watch in two hours time. Thinking very hard about the time period of two hours, he poured in a few drops of a milky liquid. The mixture of ingredients turned blue and hissed. He added some water to the concentrate and some mint leaves to dull the taste.

Back in his bed, he drank the liquid quickly and then sighed into sleep.

"Hey! Severus! Hurry up we're going to be late!" Lily was laughing as she ran through tall grass, Severus running after her.

"I don't – think – that this – is a – good – idea, Lily," Severus panted behind her. Boy could she run fast!

"Why not?" she stopped in her tracks and Snape banged into her. They fell, but Snape moved Lily quickly on top of him.

"Are you ok?" he said immediately.

She looked at herself unnecessarily.

"All in tact!" she rolled over onto the grass next to him and laughed. No one laughed as much as Lily did.

"But why don't you want to come for supper with my parents?"

"I just don't think…you know? You're sister? She doesn't like me there. And her stupid muggle tricks are stupid, but they are getting more dangerous."

"Oh please, she won't hurt you! Not while I'm around!"

"You won't always be around…" said Snape softly, but Lily hadn't heard. She had jumped up and started running again.

"Come on Sev! No more dawdling!"

He got up and brushed himself down before proceeding at a fast walk after Lily. He needed to spend as much time with her as possible. She was taking her parents on a trip of Diagon Alley in just a few short days, and she was bound to meet _him_ there.

And no doubt Lily would spend her time with him. Eating ice-cream. And zooming around on his broom. And doing all of those things with her that Severus could never do. Not just because of the money. It was also because of something far greater that he could see blooming in Lily's eyes.

She may say that she hated him, but James was not one to give up, and, as stubborn as Lily was, she didn't understand James's determination.

It was equal only to Snape's own.

There was a polite knock on Snape's mind, and his eyes opened.

He was in his bed once again, staring at the ceiling of his secret room. Shaking his head from the memory he had just dreamt of, he put on his black robe and moved towards the door. It was time for his night-time stroll. Best to check on the boy.


	3. Chapter 3  Different Views

**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 3: Different Views

He strode purposefully through the night. Children were so easy to discover; he had already taken twenty five points from Hufflepuff and another twenty five from Ravenclaw for that new couple that had been running the corridors at night. The two were fourth years, Severus recalled, and made a mental note to give the whole grade an extra essay for the next hogsmead weekend.

His spirits slightly raised, Snape decided on a shortcut and zigzagged to a hidden passage behind a hanging tapestry. He bumped into a red-headed girl, she and he were falling. Before he knew it, Snape had manoeuvred the girl around him and landed hard on the stone steps. For a moment, with the red hair draped over him and a smell and fresh flowers, Snape was reminded so heavily of his dream that he actually stammered an apology.

"Get off me!" yelled the girl and jumped to her feet, her wand out in seconds.

Climbing slowly to his feet, berating himself for his clumsiness and for his unnecessary apology (_he_ was the professor after all!) Snape said in a dry voice, "I believe you were the one on me."

"S-Snape!" the girl blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected him as much as he hadn't expected her.

"I also believe that a 'Professor' needs to be put in front of that statement."

"Sorry, _Professor_ Snape," the girl rolled her eyes. Snape realised she still had her wand out, and with a delicate flick of his wrist, drew his as well.

"_Lumos_," he said slowly – not at all in the mood to be jinxed by a teenage night-time stroller. "Ahh," why hadn't he expected it. It was the other Weasley. Ginny. In his opinion, the only Weasley worth giving time to. "Now, Weasley – "

"I believe that a 'Miss' needs to be in front of that," the girl cut in.

With an inward chuckle, Snape continued in a deadly note.

"_Miss_ Weasley, what are you doing out in the middle of the night. Is there any reason why I should not deduct fifty points from Griffindore?"

"Fifty?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yes. I assume you are aware that you are not allowed to be out during the night, unless accompanied by a teacher?"

"But I am being accompanied by a teacher," the girl said quickly.

"You are?" Snape looked around the small tunnel mockingly. "Who?"

"You, Professor."

Snape's lips curled up along the one side. The girl was sharp.

"If I am accompanying you, then where are we going, _Miss_ Weasley?"

She was stumped now. She couldn't say back to the dormitory, because then she would be admitting that she was not 'accompanied' earlier on in the night. She had only one option. Snape watched in glee as her mind came to the same conclusion.

"We're following someone," she said eventually.

"Ah, I see. Yes, I remember you asked me to help you follow…" he trailed dramatically, "Who are we following, Miss Weasley?"

She gulped and he saw a red blush run up her neck.

"Harry Potter."

So he _was_ out tonight! Why was he not surprised! The boy was out almost every night now…he wasn't too sure why though.

"Lead the way Miss Weasley," sneered Snape.

"Only if you promise to be extra quiet. If Harry catches me…" the guilt was obvious in her voice, but so was the unspoken threat. Snape was bursting to laugh, but thought better of it. Maybe if he could see how Harry was away from Snape, then he would know how better to advance Harry within his occlumens lessons.

"I promise," he said with raised eyebrows. The girl struggled with herself before nodding once and proceeding up the stairs.

They reached the seventh floor and she stopped before a blank wall. She frowned hard at Snape before saying to him, "Turn around."

"Why? I have seen all that this castle has to offer – " she cut him off.

"Well I don't care if you've seen this or not. I promised never to show it to anyone. And, unlike _some_," Snape winced at the intended blow despite himself, "I keep my word."

"If I was not so eager to see the victim that you are _stalking_," he sneered at her anger, "then I would disagree. But, as you wish," and he turned around.

Snape had no idea what the girl was doing by the wall. He had seen Potter looking at it too in his mind, but Snape tried not to pay too much attention to what he saw. Except for the bulldog. That had been funny. He didn't like seeing into Potter's mind – it reminded Snape that Potter had a childhood as unspoilt as his had been.

"Alright," Ginny said, and Snape turned to stare at a door that had never been there before. "Follow me."

He stepped into a room with countless walls. It was like he had stepped into a decagonal room with round windows on each side. Turning around, he saw that the door had sealed into yet another wall with a round window. Looking through, he could see the corridor that they had just exited. He walked slowly along the walls, stopping at each window to look through it. Here he was looking at the kitchens. At the next he was looking at an empty charms classroom. He stopped suddenly by the next window and whispered, "What is this room?" for he was staring at the very chamber that he had created. His secret room that no one else knew of. And yet this room had access to it.

"They call it the Room of Requirement," said the red-head who was perched on a stool next to a slightly larger window.

"Why have I not heard of it before? And how do you know about it?"

"These things get around," shrugged Ginny. "You're the professor – I'm the one supposed to be asking questions."

"What are these windows?" asked Snape as he walked to the one Ginny was looking through. "Are they doorways?"

"No," Ginny smiled sadly. "They're just reflections of what is out there," she pointed with her thumb at where the door used to be. "I come here to watch others. Sometimes it helps me…" she trailed.

"Helps you to do what?" Severus was genuinly curious. This was the girl, he remembered, who had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets. Who, if the stories that he had gathered were true, had been possessed by the Dark Lord. Maybe this girl knew a little of what he, Severus Snape, the Dark Lord's lap dog, felt.

"It helps me remind myself of who I am," she looked to him and actually smiled. It had been ages since a girl had smiled at him. Snape was painfully reminded of Lily.

"So why this window?" asked Snape and sat down beside her. All of a sudden his arm twinged and his hand involuntarily shot to his wrist. The girl noticed.

"Must not be fun," she sneered.

"You don't know the half of it, girl," snarled Snape. He thought abruptly of how foolish he was being. It was most out of character for him – following a girl around the castle at night. What did he think he was doing?

"I think I know a little about being under someone else's control," mumbled Ginny and turned back to the window.

Not withstanding his previous thoughts, Snape looked towards the window. It showed the star-lit outside grounds, a mirrored half-moon curling across the still black lake. A youth streaked across the grounds, a free spirit flying through the night on thrilled legs, exhilarated by the chance of discovery.

"They cannot see us?" enquired Snape.

"Nope. Or, rather, they never have before."

Once at the meeting point of a large tree and the shore of the lake, the figure stopped suddenly and stooped down. Then, she stood and lowered the hood of her cloak. Cho, her black hair flailing loosely behind her, was chatting animatedly to what appeared to be no one.

"Cho Chang?" asked Snape, remembering the images of the girl he had seen through Potter's mind.

"Unfortunately," grumbled Ginny.

Then an arm, floating through the night, connected to nothing, reached out and brushed the hair out of Cho's eyes. The arm was soon followed by a torso and a head with a tuft of messy black hair. Harry Potter, his invisibility cloak aside, stood by Cho under the moon light.

"What a classy meeting place," drawled Snape.

"Just because you don't have a romantic bone in your body," snapped Ginny.

"Ten points from Griffindore for that."

"Wh-what?"

"I am still a professor, Miss Weasley, and it would be good for you to remember that."

Ginny glared at him, but didn't waste her time. She turned her back on him.

"You don't flinch," noticed Snape.

"What do you mean?" she didn't bother facing him. Snape was annoyed, but decided not to show it.

"When I am near you. You don't flinch."

"Other than your apparent lack of hygiene, there's nothing really scary about you," Ginny said airily. "It's your reputation that sets people off. And what you've done, or have been said to have done."

"And doesn't the latter scare you?"

Ginny faced him and raised an eyebrow.

"No," she said simply.

It grabbed Snape. A desire so strong he almost couldn't resist. A want to squish little Ginny into nothing. A longing to hear her scream and see her squirm. So his life mission of building up a strong reputation wasn't even enough to scare away a teenager?

"Don't get me wrong," Ginny continued, oblivious to the struggle within the Professor sharing her company, "you are scary. I'm just not scared of you."

His curiosity piqued, Snape calmed himself, unclenched his fist around his wand, and coolly asked, "Why not?"

"I guess other emotions cloud my fear," a wry smile crossed her lips, but then she added, "and I guess it helps that I've experienced worse than what you could ever put me through."

There was silence between the two. Snape's face was a blank white page. Ginny hated how nothing she said could write any emotion onto it, but at the same time it was refreshing. Harry was so angry these days…she couldn't do anything to help. At least Cho could…

"Why do you put yourself through it?" he asked as he watched Harry and Cho through the window, now hand in hand walking along the edge of the black lake.

"It's the only time I see him happy these days," Ginny smiled sadly. "Have you ever wanted someone so badly, but nothing you did ever impressed them? Or the circumstances just seemed so out of touch that you would never get a chance with them?"

"Ginny," she whipped around at that. Now he had her attention. He tried to be as calm and collected as always, but for once, Snape found that his emotions were betraying him. "I want you to go out of this room and straight back to your dormitory. Go to bed. If I find that you have disobeyed these direct orders, I will deduct every single gem that Gryffindore has left. Do you understand?"

Wide eyed, Ginny Weasley nodded and ran to a random wall. She opened the window and climbed out of it.

To want someone so badly, but nothing ever worked to impress them. To have such circumstances put forth by life so that there would never be a chance with them. Oh yes, Ginny Weasley, Snape thought. He knew exactly what that was like. Snape watched Harry hold Cho close as he stroked her hair. What was he whispering in her ear? Sweet nothings? Comfort? Despite being in Harry's head so many times, Snape still knew nothing of the boy.

What he needed, he thought suddenly, looking around the room with its multiple windows, was another point of view. He needed someone who knew Harry well, and he needed them on his side. But he also needed them to be strong, and to know the Dark Arts and the touch of it. Every window's view changed to the same thing.

The room had heard the requirement and as such, had answered the call of its user. Through the window, Snape watched as Ginny made her way back to the Gryffindore common room.


	4. Chapter 4  Multiple Observations

**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 4: Multiple Observations

"My Lord," Snape bowed low before the Dark Lord, his black cape swallowing up his expressionless face.

"Severus," Voldemort whispered. His teeth shone in the candle light in what Snape had learnt was a smile. Good. He was happy to see him. He was safe…for now. "Come, up, up. What good are you to me on the floor?"

Snape obediently stood and faced the vile creature. Emotions bubbled inside him but he suppressed them. Taking his truth into his hands, Severus bundled up his memories, hopes and dreams and quickly shoved them away from Voldemort's gaze.

"I need to see what you have been up to, my loyal servant," Voldemort was hardly paying attention to what he was saying. Snape was the last person who would cross him, but that was no reason to keep an eye on him.

"Yes my Lord," Snape nodded. Voldemort stood slowly, and, with head cocked to one side, hissed.

Images swirled through Snape's vision. It took a lot more energy this time to steady himself and to not automatically put up barriers. He noticed it was getting harder to let the Dark Lord into his mind. He watched idly as Voldemort sifted through memories of classes filled with working students…morning breakfasts in the great hall…staff meetings…the night-time watch. The night-time watch.

Powerless, Snape let Voldemort witness his talk with Ginny.

With a sigh, Voldemort left Snape's mind.

"And who is the girl?" enquired Voldemort softly. "And why such interest in her?"

"My Lord," frowned Snape – didn't Voldemort _know_ who Ginny was? – "her name is Ginny Weasley."

"One of the Weasleys? The blood-traitors?"

"Yes, My Lord," Snape didn't like that tone of voice. He had to explain himself quickly. "But, My Lord, there is something different about this Weasley."

"Ah, there is always a black-sheep among the countless white. Why does this girl stand out for you, Severus?" Voldemort was not particularly interested, but Snape was not often wrong about these things.

"She is at the stage of her wizarding life where levels of power are beginning to even out. However, there is something very strange about her in that she wields an uncanny amount of power. She is exceptionally strong."

"There are many who are _exceptionally strong_, Severus. Get to the point."

"All of her other siblings are weak, My Lord. They know nothing of the power of the Dark Arts, and yet she masters them without a second thought. I have a theory that when she was taken to the Chamber of Secrets – "

"She WHAT?" Voldemort snapped upwards. So _this_ was the girl who had helped to destroy his beloved diary? So _this_ was the girl who could have given him life so many precious years earlier? What if she knew? What if she had even a glimmer of the truth?

"Speak quickly, Snape. I must hear this theory of yours!"

"I merely _think_," Snape stressed the word. He hadn't thought that Voldemort would take such a reaction to this news, but obviously Snape knew less than normal. As per normal. Without rolling his eyes, he continued, "I merely _think_ that while she was down in the chamber, some of the magic that went on infused itself with her, and that magic now gives her the sudden strength that she has."

"What type of powers does she wield?"

"What I have seen of her is mainly her ability at potions. I have noticed a profound difference in her skills at – forgive me – 'good' potions compared to 'bad' potions. The darker the intent in the potion, the faster she masters it. In her second year, being taught by that _werewolf_, she received top grades. That, compared to her first year's performance…well, the difference is profound."

"And why have you taken an interest in her now?" Voldemort's eyes were not leaving his. He was looking for any hint of something deeper than what Snape was saying.

"She has been used against Harry Potter before," Snape shrugged.

"You believe she has a connection to Dark Magic? And that is why she is so much stronger than others her age?"

"It cannot be talent, My Lord – look at her talent-less family."

The Dark Lord waved Snape into a chair and with long-nailed fingers, stroked his pale chin in thought. Was it possible that, in being destroyed, his diary had tried to stay alive through this girl? Did that mean that his first Horcrux was still alive in Ginny Weasley? He looked hard at Snape. No…he couldn't tell the man. Voldemort trusted no one with his biggest secret. But, the teacher did know the traces of black magic. Maybe he should…yes. He would.

"Severus," Voldemort said in conclusion. "Watch her. Those are my instructions to you. Observe her for any oddly powerful behaviour on her part, and then try and pinpoint that power's location. It may just be a strong wand that she wields," Voldemort quickly kept quiet. Snape didn't need to know about that either.

Oblivious to the thoughts in Voldemort's head, Snape said, "Yes, My Lord. As you wish," before standing up, bowing low once more and walking out of the cold room.

Once safely in the grounds, he let a shiver course violently through his body. Voldemort was getting too strong, and he was getting impatient too. He wanted Harry Potter dead _now _and he wanted to rule the wizarding world _now_ as well.

Snape reached a round pond and stepped into it. The black water hid his feet from him but did not wet them. Silently, he turned on the spot and disappeared.

He reappeared in a room in the Hogshead. He looked about the room distastefully. He had bad memories of it, but it was what Dumbledore had assigned him to disapparate in and out of. He couldn't be seen away from the Hogwarts' area for too long without a proper alibi, so Snape had a "getaway room" for when he was "feeling a bit on the dark side." He hated how Dumbledore chuckled at his own words.

His mind running with thoughts, Snape made his way out of the Hogshead and towards the castle. Things weren't looking too good in the castle. The ministry was turning a blind eye and the Frog Woman was doing everything in her perpetually-developing-power to keep it that way. The children were miserable. He couldn't blame Harry Potter for sneaking out at night.

Once in the castle, Snape made his way to his special room. He needed sleep. His arm was prickling uncomfortably and his conscience was worrying – actually worrying? – about what situation he had just put Ginny Weasley in.

As he slumped gladly down onto his bed however, a silver phoenix erupted in the air.

"Requesting time to talk," Dumbledore's voice echoed about the room.

Sighing, Snape said, "Request granted."

The phoenix changed shape slowly to mirror Dumbledore's tall image. His hands were behind his back and his eyes twinkled serenely through his half-moon spectacles.

"Sir, what would you like to _talk_ about?" Snape sighed. He felt like a child being summoned to the headmaster's office, being asked to have tea with him.

"I'm bored, Severus," pouted the ex-headmaster. Snape raised his eyebrows.

"Surely you have something to do? Some secret mission you are trying to accomplish?"

"Oh yes," nodded Dumbledore sadly, "however I have hit – quite literally – a dead end."

"If you told me of what your mission was about…" trailed Snape, but he knew it was no good.

"You can be of little service to me as I am now, my friend," smiled Dumbledore sadly. The words 'my friend' stuck with Snape. He was as much a prisoner of Voldemort's as he was of Dumbledore's, but when Dumbledore said 'my friend', he believed it more than he did when Voldemort said 'my alli'. "But come, I want to know, are how things in the castle?"

"Miserable," shrugged Snape. He was not going to lie to the man and tell him it was all daisies and lemondrops. "After you were rushed out, Potter and his group of friends have been in a permanent detention."

Dumbledore laughed.

"Why so miffed, Severus? Because it was not _you_ who gave the boy detention for once?"

Rolling his eyes in apparent exasperation, Snape said, "I don't care how many detentions he gets, or from who, but I do care about the means of those detentions. Torture is not my idea of positive punishment."

"Ah yes," Dumbledore nodded sadly. "I have heard of the quills she has been using on the children. Stock up on some ingredients for them – I'm sure they've been helping themselves to your storeroom cupboard."

"It's not that easy, you know, to get ingredients these days – unless I pay for them myself. The toad wants proof of what happened to the previous ingredients."

Waving his hand as if this was a minor barrier, Dumbledore then said, "And what other news have you for me?"

Snape squirmed on the edge of his bed. He knew that Dumbledore wasn't going to like this.

"I have been, er, following Ginny Weasley around the castle," he said slowly.

Dumbledore nodded politely for Snape to continue.

"I have a theory about her, and I wanted to prove myself wrong. But…"

"Ah," the visage of Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "Our dearest Tom has seen your interest in her?"

"Yes."

"And what is this theory of yours?"

Snape explained again how he thought that Dark Powers had merged with Ginny during her brief experience of them in the Chamber of Secrets. Dumbledore merely smiled. Snape knew that smile – it was what Dumbledore gave when he was impressed…or worried.

"And what has the Dark Lord ordered you to do?" he asked politely when Snape was done.

"To observe her."

"He finds her of interest too does he?"

"Why? Do you also have an interest in her?"

"I am merely suggesting that many people are keeping an eye on the Weasley family, that is all."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I think the results of your observations will be most intruiging. Do what the Dark Lord says. Watch over her. Do what you have not done for years; befriend someone."

Snape stared in utter disbelief at the silvery man.

"Befriend her?" he spat. "She's – she's – "

"Very similar to someone you once knew," Dumbledore's eyes glittered, before he snapped back to business. "Now, about Harry. I understand that his Occlumens lessons haven't been going as planned?"

"As if we expected anything else. The boy hates me."

"As do you of him."

"That isn't true, Dumbledore, and you know it!"

"Ah yes, you hate everything that resembles James… quite unfair for the boy considering he is the very image of his father."

"Except his eyes…" whispered Snape. "Do you know," he said sourly, "that I am having just as much difficulty during these _lessons_ as he is? Every single time the boy doesn't block out his mind, I hear her screaming. I hear her dying. And I know that it is my fault!"

"Actions have consequences, Severus," said Dumbledore gravely. "Some of us have to learn that the hard way."

Snape stared hard at Dumbledore.

"Are you suggesting that Harry…"

"I am just implying that Harry needs to learn that lesson too. Watch him too Severus. Don't let him do anything too rash. You know how he is."

"Yes, he got that from James too."

Dumbledore laughed quietly, "Not as much as you'd think. Now good night Severus. Get some rest; you look terrible."

"You too," Snape actually smiled as he watched the image of Dumbledore turn back into a phoenix and then dissolve into the air.

...

_(A/N: Hi all, WonderwhiteRabbit here. Just want to say thank you to all of you fabulous readers and writers for doing what you do best. I don't like to beg, but I will just say; any reviews are welcome and, if anything, encouraged. I especially love to hear of any other theories or suggestions, even critisism. Just a quick note; my timeline has gotten awefully mixed up since I haven't read the 5th book in ages, so sorry about that, I am trying to make amends. Otherwise, Keep reading ^^ )_


	5. Chapter 5  Notes

**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 5: Notes

Severus stood in an empty, dark hallway. Night time rounds yet again…but this time was different…this time he had another purpose for being where he was.

If Ginny were to leave the Gryffindor tower, then either way she had to come through this hallway; it was the only way to avoid detection from the obvious passages, all of which were watched silently by the castle ghosts. And Peeves.

Snape frowned. Peeves. He was a menace! But Dumbledore found him amusing. Listening to Peeves' cackling drift up to him from two floors below, Severus couldn't understand why. But Dumbledore had many strange reasons to do things, and Severus was not one to question Dumbledore's loyalty. The _toad_ however…that was a different matter all together.

"Oemph!"

Severus was nocked over yet again.

"This is becoming a habit of yours, Ginevra," said Snape as he lay on his back, Ginny squashed down onto him by gravity. She hastily jumped up, her cheeks reddening.

"I-I'm sorry, Proffesor," she stuttered. "I didn't expect anyone to be here and I – "

"Was in a rush to get somewhere, escorted by me?" offered Snape when she ran out of words.

She looked at him curiously, slowly figuring that he had been waiting there, in that dark hallway, for her to come running in his direction.

"Yes," she said slowly. "I'm here to be escorted by you to the seventh floor."

"Then lead the way," Severus drawled. He didn't like the look she was giving him. It was much too calculating. Did she know his mission? His theory? No, he reassured himself, she didn't know that. She couldn't know that. Could she?

Ginny silently lead Severus towards the seventh floor corridor, and once more asked Severus to look the other way.

Not wanting to frighten the girl away, Severus obeyed. He found it ironic that he had thought he would never be bossed around by a red-headed girl, and yet here he was again.

"Alright," Ginny said after a few seconds. "You can turn around now."

Once more, a door had appeared in the wall that had not been there just moments ago. Snape opened the door and let Ginny in first – he might as well try being polite since he was going to be spending quite some time with her. He closed the door behind him and watched as it melted into a large window framed by snaking silver bars. Behind the window he could see the corridor they had just left, a ghost drifting slowly by.

"These, er, windows," Snape began uncertainly.

"Yes?" asked Ginny. If her potions professor was going to be joining her during her night-time pleasures, then she wasn't going to make the situation any more awkward than it was. She was just happy that he left her to her moping. She also had to admit that, when it came down to it, she was curious of Snape and his part in the Voldemort story. Dumbledore had such faith in him, but _why_?

"Are the images that they project real? Or fictitious? In time? In the past?"

She smiled at his sudden enthusiasm and he caught himself. He tried to regain his sturdy composure, but that just made Ginny laugh.

"Excuse me for saying so, Professor, but you're like a kid sometimes," she giggled.

Snape did something that hadn't happened to him for years; he blushed. A streak of warmth fed its way up his neck and dappled his cheeks in red.

Ginny stopped laughing. All of a sudden, the man looked…human… She coughed.

"The windows show whatever you want to see that has already happened or that is happening. I tried getting them to show me the future, but they just can't do it. Or they just don't want to. Sometimes I ask them to see the past, but then they show me the present. Other times it's vice versa," she shrugged. "This room shows us what we require. I never question its judgement."

"Then this is the room that Harry uses for his Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons."

Ginny didn't ask how Snape knew about the DA's lessons, but nodded her head instead.

"So what image did you ask the room for tonight?" asked Snape. He walked towards a chair that he was certain hadn't been there before he had needed one.

"This one," Ginny turned to the window directly in front of her. Snape raised his eyebrows.

"Why would you want to see that again?" he asked softly.

"The Chamber of Secrets," smiled Ginny, "still has more secrets."

"And you think that you can discover them?"

"I _know_ I can. Or, rather, it's as if I know them already, but just can't remember them."

Her innocence touched Snape. The girl was confused and didn't know who to talk about it with. Dark magic was not an easy subject to broach.

"Ginevra," Snape began.

"Sir," she interrupted politely, "please call me Ginny."

With a nod, he began again, "Ginny, perhaps if you spoke of your issues with someone, then maybe someone could help?"

She scoffed despite herself.

"Help? Yeah, right. No one has been a host of…of that _demon_ and survived, so who do I have to talk to? He plagued my mind, body and soul. He was as close as a nargle to taking my life!"

"What's a nargle?" Snape asked despite himself.

Ginny blinked. She had lost track of what she had been thinking and what she had been saying.

"Luna Lovegood would be able to explain it properly."

With a sigh she sat in a chair next to Severus that he was certain he hadn't seen arrive. She leaned back and looked up at the ceiling of the room of the requirement. She loved stars and was happy the first time that she had stepped into the room, her wishes being fulfilled, to see that the room mirrored the Great Hall's ceiling.

"I just want a year of my life back. That's all. Is that too much to ask for?" a star flew across the open roof.

"Many of us ask for things that we think – no, that we believe – are reasonable. But there is something you must learn, and fast Ginny," Snape scraped the chair along the floor so that he was sitting opposite her. He even dared putting a hand on hers as he said, "the past can_not_ be changed."

She didn't move her hand away. It alarmed Ginny at the close proximity she was allowing her Professor, but what really shocked her was the warmth of his hand over hers. She had always thought that every part of the man was cold from his sneering lips to his twitching fingers. Now that she had felt the latter…she desired to feel the former…

Not knowing what she was doing, Ginny moved her free hand towards Severus's face. When he didn't move at her touch, she slowly traced the line of his chin. The sad wrinkles along his eyes. The sharp nose. Then finally, she felt his lips. They were as warm as his hands. And they were shaking.

She snapped her hand back. All that her exploring had taught her was that Severus was a very, very sad man.

"You do not want to end up like me, Ginny," Snape said, before standing up. "And now, I think I should take you back to your common room."

Ginny didn't hesitate, nor did she say anything. They walked out of the Room of Requirement and silently made their way back to the Gryffindor tower where she bid her Professor a hasty good night and disappeared behind the Fat Lady.

"She's a good girl, that one," the Lady said to Snape. "I hope you didn't take too many points from Gryffindor for her being out late at night?"

"No," replied Snape, "but that doesn't mean she won't be loosing those points sooner or later.

"I wish all teachers were as biased as you are! But against Slytherin!" shouted the Fat Lady after him as he stepped silently through the quiet school, Peeves having moved on to something better than breaking tables.

He was grateful for his dark chambers – the Room of Requirement was much too bright for him during the night – and was ready to fall onto his bed without even undressing when he saw a notepad and new quill lying over his pillow.

Flipping over the first page, written in green slanted writing, was a message:

"_I find that jotting down my thoughts always helps to rearrange them._"

There was no signature, but Severus didn't need one. Only Dumbledore could offer him such advice.

Despite his exhaustion, he picked up the quill and tested it in a scribble. As he thought: it didn't need ink. It left a clear blue line over the page under Albus's note.

Thinking for a moment, Severus moved onto a new page and wrote the date in the top corner before writing:

"_Genevra Weasley. Prefers to be called Ginny._"

He wasn't too sure why that was the first thing he had thought to write.

"_The windows show past and present. But never exactly what you ask for. They show you what you require to see._"

He looked at this short summary of the room before adding an arrow under the sentence and heading it with a bold "_Room of Requirement_."

"_Ginny shows signs of internal struggle against her unknown adventures._"

He added another arrow and, again in bold, wrote, "_The Chamber of Secrets._"

Linking the two together with a squiggly bracket, he wrote along the side of the notebook, "_The room shows the secrets of the chamber, but only that which Ginny needs to know._"

He read the last part of the sentence again. "_Only that which Ginny needs to know_." So if he wanted to find out more about Ginny's relationship with the Dark Arts, then he needed to prove to her that she _needed_ to know more, thus fooling the Room into showing her more, and thus showing Snape more.

Pleased with his efforts, he put the notebook next to his bed and, with a flick of his wand, turned the lights off. The cool darkness flooded his sight and he breathed a sigh of relief at the nothingness in front of him. He remembered the stars reflecting the night outside in the Room of Requirement. Severus made a mental note to add that to his list; Ginny liked the stars.

He fell asleep thinking of the shooting star, and wondering if, and then what, Ginny had wished for.

Safe in her bed, Ginny couldn't sleep. The potions master was on her mind. His actions were so hard to read. She didn't like him, but all of a sudden she craved his presence. It did miracles to calm her. She could think around him. Her mind would become clear the moment he was near her; no longer shrouded by a strangely strong desire for Harry. Why couldn't she be like the other girls and date many other guys without ever being stuck on one person? Why did Harry zoom through her thoughts every day and every night? She shook her head slowly. She was weak. That was why she couldn't be like the other girls. She was weak.

But around Snape…he gave her a certainty. His mere company was enough to drive away wild thoughts and allow her time to think. To choose the thoughts she wanted to think about, rather than having them crash into her mind without notice.

She grimaced silently as Harry popped back into her head, his green eyes glistening with laughter. Ginny didn't even know if the image was a true memory or if it was merely a manifestation of her mind. Either way, she didn't like it being there. She wanted to _sleep_. She wanted to have a decent night's rest where she awoke tired-free! She closed her eyes in a futile attempt to sleep.

"_You do not want to end up like me, Ginny._"

Her eyes snapped open. That was Snape's voice. That was definitely a memory. He had definitely said that to her. What had he meant? To end up like him? How would she end up like the shadowy-eyed, greesy-haired, sour-looking man? No; he hadn't meant physically. He had meant emotionally. Snape was…sad. Ginny was confused. Was she really feeling pity for the man? What did she know about him?

Other than him being a spy and that everyone hated him who wasn't in Slytherin, Ginny didn't know much at all about the man.

But he was trying to get to know her. She knew that for certain. Otherwise why else would he meet her for a second night and not take any points away from her house?

A thought taking her by surprise, she grabbed her wand.

"_Lumos,_" she whispered. She scrabbled for some parchment and for a quill and, with her wand between her teeth, she wrote two words as neatly as she could.

Severus didn't bother going to the Great Hall that morning. He had slept badly and wasn't in the mood for raucous children at such an early hour. Instead, he went to his office and did some preparation for the classes he had that day. He had just decided to start marking the third year's paper on "A Relevant Cure for Giggling." He had the first period free and thought he might as well fill it with something useful – although the papers turned out to be tedious to mark. With still half of the period left, Snape was surprised to hear a knock on his office door. He wasn't expecting students until the second period.

"Enter," he drawled. But the door stayed shut. His patience egging away from him, he flicked his wand and the heavy door swung open.

There was no one there, but there was something that looked like a folded swan fluttering around at eye level. The swan flew with papery wings towards the Professor and landed softly on his desk.

He picked up the origami swan, impressed at the charm placed upon it. Under the one wing he spotted writing. Carefully Snape unfolded the swan.

It was a note. Once more, even though it had no signiature, Snape knew who it was from; Ginny Weasley.

He stared at the words, not too sure what to make of them. He pulled out his own notepad and drew an arrow up from "_Genevra Weasley. Prefers to be called Ginny." _Then, with a small twirl of his wand, a copy of Ginny's note appeared by the new arrow. It read, "_Thank you_."

...

**_(A/N: _**_This chapter has taken me a while to upload, mainly because of how Snape's character is turning out, as well as how Ginny is reacting to Snape. So I'm gonna do what I can to make that a little bit more realistic. Let me know your thoughts though _**_^^. _**_WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off **)**_


	6. Chapter 6  An Odd Remark

**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 6: An Odd Remark

Harry was angry. Then again, Harry was little else in the current time.

"How can she?" he stormed around the empty classroom, only his two best friends his witness. "How can that – that – that TOAD do this?"

"We understand, Harry," Hermione said tentatively. "We feel the same way!"

"Yeah, we just don't show it by breaking our toes on desks," mumbled Ron.

Harry grit his teeth and forced himself to relax his clenched hands. In an eerily calm voice considering how angry he was inside, he said, "I understand her using that stupid quill on me, but to use it on _first years_? FIRST YEARS!" his anger broke through yet again. He couldn't take it any more. Umbridge had gone too far this time, and he was going to pay her back on behalf of everyone at Hogwarts who hated her. "I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY'D LET THAT BLOODY BI–"

"Now now Potter," drawled an all too familiar voice. "Foul language is the very last thing your mother would have approved of. Ten points. And another ten for waking me from my midday nap."

"Thank you," growled Harry, "_Professor_ Snape, for setting me straight. I'll be sure to play the bongo during _this hour_ instead of my customary time, just for you."

Snape glared at the boy. Those stupid green eyes glared right back and Snape had to turn a smile into a scowl. He was in a bad mood. Last night he had stood waiting by the wall on the seventh floor, and yet again Ginny hadn't appeared. Was she avoiding him? Or was there another reason for her lack of appearance? To add to his anger, his arm twitched from a streak of pain through his Dark Mark.

"Be glad I don't take any more points from Gryffindor – from what I've heard, you've hardly got any left."

"And whose fault is that, Sir?"

"I can only imagine that it's the terrible students who reside in that red and gold common room of yours."

Harry took a step forwards, his hand clenching his wand. Snape delighted in his rage. At least the boy _could_ show emotion; Snape was caught in an ever-lasting blank look. He wondered if he could even frown anymore, or if his skin had forgotten how.

"Now now, Potter," tutted Snape. "It would do your dearest house no good – none at all I tell you – if you were to attack a teacher."

"It would do _me _some good," said Harry under his breath, but, once again, he forced himself to relax. His anger, however, didn't abate.

Snape nodded at the boy with a sly smile; he was learning. It was a start.

"What can we do to help you, Professor?" squeaked Hermione from one of the classroom corners.

Snape tried hard not to roll his eyes at the silly girl.

"I am looking for Weasley," said Snape in a bored voice. The less these three knew about his meetings with Ginny, the better. Not that it helped that, of the past week, he had only seen her twice. He wanted to know why she wasn't going to the Room of Requirement any more. Was he failing to gain her trust? Was he failing to befriend her? He thought his efforts at friendship were going quite nicely. When she had touched his face…he almost raised his hands to his lips.

"Me?" said Ron whilst pointing a finger at himself in disbelief.

Snape stared for a moment at the boy. That's right. Ron was Ginny's brother. How could he forget? That hadn't been his plan, but a good Slytherin knows when to adapt.

"Yes," snapped Snape. "You don't see any other Weasleys around here, now do you? Although I know this building is bursting at the seams with red hair, there is only one Weasley here."

"Alright," snapped Ron with just as much force. "I'm here, what do you want." Hermione dug her elbow into his side. "Sir," Ron added hastily.

With a wonderfully mischievous gleam in his eyes, Snape said, "To have some tea."

The other three opened their eyes wide and gave each other hurried glances. Snape wanted to have tea? With _Ron_? Something was up, but they could do nothing about it.

"You other two," said Snape to Harry and Hermione and then he pointed to the door. Hermione scuttled over and opened it. Harry, however, dragged his feet, his hands in his pockets, all the while staring hard at Snape as if wishing he could perform Legilimens on the man to find out what he was up to. Standing in the doorway he looked to Ron. The guy was perspiring but otherwise he looked strong. Ron nodded to Harry.

"A door works both ways," hissed Snape, "it opens and then it closes!" Hermione squeaked again and ushered Harry out, closing the door with a soft click.

Once alone with Ronald Weasley, Snape pulled out his wand. He smiled at the flinch that the boy gave, but directed his attention to some school desks instead. With two short flicks and a long sweep, he had transfigured the tables into a coffee table and conjured up two chairs on either side. Without showing how much relief it gave him, he sunk into the one armchair.

"Sit," he indicated the other chair to Ron who jerkily took his seat. He sat on the very edge of the chair, as if afraid to touch it.

Snape snapped his fingers and a small house elf popped into being beside the table, his arms holding a large silver tray above his head. Happily hopping around the table, he laid it with cauldron cakes and hot tea. With a smile and wave at Snape – his mouth twitched in reply – the elf bowed and _pop_, he was gone again.

"Help yourself, Mr Weasley," drawled Snape. "I have no reason, nor desire, to know your tea preferences."

Just because he had nothing else to do, Ron busied himself with pouring tea extra slowly. With a glance at the cauldron cakes, he took one and added it to his saucer. Snape hadn't touched the goods and Ron wasn't stupid enough not to notice.

"Won-won't you be having anything, Sir?" asked Ron cautiously.

"Oh very well," said Snape. He was happy that the boy hadn't started wolfing down the food and drink without thinking. Maybe he could work with this one after all. The girl would be easy – just make sure she finds the right books – but this one…Ronald…he had to learn some things fast. This one small step, not trusting a possible enemy, was a large enough first step that Snape didn't have to help with.

He quickly poured himself some tea and happily bit into one of the treats – his smile hid by a full mouth. He hadn't had any breakfast that day. Instead he had been away on Order Duty. It was stupid, protecting that door day after day, night after night. But it wouldn't surprise him if the watches came in handy – so long as another Weasley attack didn't happen. Ahh, yes, the Weasley attack. Now he had his angle. He quickly brushed down the cake with some tea.

"How is your father?" asked Snape.

Ron hurriedly swallowed some tea, scorching his throat, before saying, "Fine."

"No lingering pain? Swelling? Stiffness?" Snape prompted.

"A-a bit of stiffness, yeah," nodded Ron. "But the doctors say that'll go away soon."

Snape nodded his head slowly. It wouldn't go away soon; if you were bitten by Nigini, then it would take a few years before the poison ebbed out of the system. He stopped a shiver at the thought of that snake biting someone. That was one of Voldemort's favourite games; threatening with the snake. Instead, he turned his attention back to the family.

He wanted to know how Ginny had been coping these past few years, but since his relationship with her was such a fragile one, he didn't want to appear to be questioning her. Along with the fact that she had been avoiding their visits at night. He needed her to trust him as much as Dumbledore did. She valued family, so here he was, trying to find out about her many-brothered, huge household.

"And," Snape paused. He didn't want to appear too nice. He hated this boy because he was friends with Harry, and Harry was just like his father. Also, he knew that whatever he told Ron, he would run back and tell Harry and Hermione. Sending them out of the room was pointless, but at least now he didn't have interruptions from Granger and yelling bouts from Potter. "And the family – are they reacting to the attack well?"

"Reacting to it well?" Ron's eyebrows rose. "We're bloody well scared out of our minds! How can you react _well_ to an attack on your father?"

Snape found himself rolling his eyes again. He snapped out of it; that was a childish thing to do. Instead he drawled, "So I take it you are all being extra careful about where you go and who you talk to?"

"Natural defences are up, yeah," growled Ron as he stared in disbelief at the potions master. "But we can't have protective spells on us all the time, now can we? We've just got our wands to work with!"

"Natural defences?"

"Like, who to trust and talk to," said Ron slowly. Snape got the hint, but he still had one more question to ask. This was important.

"And are you the only one of your family daft enough not to have thought about defences sooner?"

Ron blinked.

"I'm not daft. 'Course I've thought about them. Ginny and I got together and discussed them, but she's adamant that nothing we do will be able to stop whatever people want to do to us."

Snape froze. Ginny Weasley didn't _want_ protection? She was a smart girl. Smart enough to know the truth. But she wasn't prepared to try and save herself from that truth? No…there had to be something else. Something beyond what he could gauge from her brother. Armed with this odd information, Snape got up and twirled his wand. The table changed back into its original shape, the cakes and tea disappeared (Ron snapped his jaws onto thin air,) and the chairs swirled into nothing (Ron landed hard on his rear end.)

"Good day, Mr Weasley," said Snape tartly before sweeping out of the room, leaving Ron on the floor, dumbfounded by the encounter.

Snape was looking for Weasley again. This time Ginny Weasley. He heard a crack and a bang, his instincts took over and he ducked fast. Above his head rotated a spinning leg. Behind him, Snape heard sniggers.

"WEASLEYS!" he yelled. He heard the two scatter, but his wand was in his hand and, with a quick whip of his wrist, he had snared the two in an invisible lasso. He pulled hard on his wand and, scrabbling against their invisible binds, the twins came into view from behind a hanging tapestry.

"YOU TWO," puffed Snape as he pulled some more on his wand, "ARE IN DEEP SH–"

"Now now Professor," panted Fred, or maybe it was George, both still trying to free themselves. "Foul language is the very last thing your mother would have approved of."

Snape let the magic fall, and the twins fell onto the ground, puffing for air, but grinning from ear to ear.

"I said that to Potter only minutes ago," intoned Snape.

"Then we must have really good hearing," said the one twin.

"To be able to have heard you all the way from the common room," said the other

"Or just hearing that can _extend_ really far!" they both burst into laughter.

Ah yes…the extendable ears. The twins had been using them the entire holiday to try and listen in on the Order's meetings.

"I would take points away from Gryffindor," said Snape over their laughter, "but I don't think that you have many left. Instead, why deny Professor Umbridge the opportunity to torture any more Gryffindors?"

The two snapped quiet.

"That's not funny."

"Not at all, Professor."

"I suppose you didn't see what she did to that first year?"

"Actually," said Snape, bored and looking at his grimy fingers, "I'm the one who recommended the first year to her."

He had to use his wand fast as both brothers launched themselves at him.

"Muggle antics will get you nowhere," sneered Snape as the twins fought against an invisible barrier. "Use your _wands_, boys, otherwise this is just child's play." The barrier burst and the red-heads fell backwards, once more on the ground.

"There will come a day," growled the one.

"When all of us will overpower you."

"_That_"

"Will be child's play!" they said together.

"Very touching," smirked Snape. "In the mean time, try using dried black berries from a Ligustrum lucidum."

He walked away, smiling icily to himself as the twins exchanged raised eyebrows. The berries came from wax-leafed privets often found in the east. The berries would counteract their latest dangerous ingredient for those "Scare Away Sleep" sweets that they were busy developing. And the berries would give a better taste than dragon-dung coffee beans too.

At least he knew that the twins had brains on them. They just didn't like using them for studies. And the elder brothers all knew how to take care of themselves too. It was just Ginny and Ron that he had to help now.

Scrap that. Just Ginny.

She didn't want protection? Why was she being so stupid?

"Good afternoon, Professor," Snape stumbled in his thoughts and stopped in his tracks. There was Ginny, looking serenely up at him. No anger or hatred in those liquid eyes, only a cool expression of greeting. She would make a good death eater. Snape shook himself hard and inwardly berated himself for that thought before saying, "Afternoon, Miss Weasley. Where are you off to?"

"The library," she said brightly. "I have a few spells I want to look up."

"Anything in particular?" they were tiptoeing around each other as if they never saw each other night after night. Actually, Snape wondered at this. He had taken to waiting for Ginny every night by the seventh floor wall, but for the past few nights she had left him there waiting…alone…he often felt as if she had stood him up.

"No, nothing really. I thought I might as well put my time to good use."

"No homework?"

"No, Professor. No homework. I finish it all at night." He noticed how she put extra emphasis on this.

"Pity, considering how night-time should be used for other purposes."

"Sleep evades me," she smiled sadly.

"I find that walking often helps."

"If there is no one around to bump into barely a common room away."

Ah, now he understood. She couldn't sneak out because others were in the common room. Their system had to be remedied.

"I'll see to a solution." Snape nodded his head to Ginny and they walked on.

Back in his dungeons, Snape worked quickly. There was the Dark Mark, the Gold Galleons of Hermione's that she used for the DA meetings, and now, there would be a third system of communication. Used only between Ginny and Snape. Actually, the system had been in use a long time ago between him and Lily. He wondered if it would work any more. Scratching in his drawers he found what he was looking for; a pair of quills. Using the one quill, he wrote on a piece of paper, "_Testing_," and was pleased to see the second quill react. It buzzed softly. He picked it up and poised it over the paper and it immediately started writing a second, "_Testing_," under the previous statement.

So the quills worked…but the paper was a problem. Anyone could read the messages sent out. He needed to make a plan either with the ink or with the parchment.

He reasoned with himself and chose the ink – that way it could write on floor, wall, paper, skin or any other necessary surface. Placing the quills side by side, he knew what to do

"Miss Weasley," drawled Snape as the class packed up their potion ingredients, "stay after class."

Ginny waved goodbye to her friends and made her way to the teacher's table.

"I understand that you know the consequences of walking, unsupervised, through the castle at night?" he asked icily.

"Yes, sir," replied Ginny.

"Then I must never – _never_, Miss Weasley – catch you outside without an accompaniment."

"How will I manage that, Sir?" asked Ginny. She was playing her part nicely while there were still other students in the room. The last one exited and the door closed. Now it was only Snape and Ginny. Their pretence fell and Snape handed Ginny the quills.

"These will help. If you ever want to go to the room again, then call on me with these."

She eyed the quill carefully. It looked similar to Umbridge's sharp torture quills that she used during detentions.

"I write my message on any surface," he used the quill to write on his table. The words glistened for a few moments before disappearing into the surface. "Then this quill is notified of the message." He indicated the quill vibrating softly. "Then you place this quill on any surface and it writes out the message for you." The quill wrote the message a second time, this time on a book and Ginny watched as it sunk into the cover.

"What will our message be?" asked Ginny.

"What do you want it to be?"

"Well," Ginny thought for a moment. "It needs to be something so random, so _odd_ that no one will be able to trace it to either you or me."

"Very clever," agreed Snape.

"I like fluffy things," said Ginny surely.

"Excuse me?"

"That's what my message will be for 'The coast is clear, I'm coming'."

"And my reply for, 'I'll be waiting?'" enquired Snape, his mouth in a grim line.

"As long as it's pink."

"'As long as it's pink'?" repeated Snape, his mouth twitching at the sides.

"No one would guess it was for you or for me," nodded Ginny. "I hate pink things, and no one would suspect you of fluffy things."

Speaking through gritted teeth, Snape said, "Ginny Weasley, you should have been in Slytherin."

She laughed. "And perhaps you in Gryffindor!"

She got up and made her way to the door where she turned and remarked, "I would've preferred you in Gryffindor," before whipping outside and leaving Snape with his carefully still quill.

He picked it up and wrote, "_Ten points to Gryffindor._"


	7. Chapter 7  Peculiar Realisations

**_(_A/N: _Hi all! So, I decided it would be only polite to thank all those who have reviewed this story so far. I know that it doesn't seem to be going anywhere as yet, but I'm slowly integrating other characters and getting some more info out. Let me know what you think - really do appreciate knowing what people have in mind. I don't really do humouristic stuff; I'm a heavy drama fan despite myself. So yeah, thanks so much to everyone who's said anything along the way! You guys are awesome! So...yeah...Enjoy the next chapter! WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off.)_**

**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 7: Peculiar Realisations

"Professor?"

"Huh? Say again, Draco?" said Snape distractedly.

"I asked, is the assignment due tomorrow or on Thursday?" Draco sneered at his favourite teacher. The man had been acting weird for the past week and he suspected it was related to the Dark Lord. His father had said something about Snape, about how the Dark Lord was pressuring him into something else and about how he didn't think Snape could do it. Apparently Snape's flaw was that he "wasn't nice enough."

"Make it tomorrow," said Snape after a moment's thought.

"But sir," frowned Draco, "I was sure you said Thursday. Everyone else in the class has Thursday as well."

"Then you will be the only one in the class who will get marks for the assignment."

Draco sniggered as he left the professor alone.

Snape was in the Slytherin common room, sitting in a comfortable chair by the fire. Outside, the air was slowly warming towards spring and dark rain clouds were forming, but the happy suicide raindrops getting caught in the womping willow only mocked Snape's emotions.

He was failing. Ginny Weasley had not contacted him for weeks. It was February and almost Valentine's Day. His hand reached for his pocket. His quill, forever hidden in his robes, stayed perfectly still. She had avoided him during class as well, sitting at the back of the class, leaving quickly afterwards. She had something on her mind… that was the only conclusion he could come to.

The fire jumped behind the grate like a caged animal. That's how Severus felt. Completely caged. He was failing with everyone, not just Ginny. His heart clenched for a moment as he remembered the look on Potter's face.

He did not care that it was a look of loathing and disgust, but seeing such anger out of Lily's eyes…he shivered.

Potter couldn't do Occlumens. Not in his current emotional position. He was angry and bitter and resentful. Not a very nice person to be around when all of that was aimed at him, but Snape would persevere. If he had to, he would get a time turner and do double sessions with the boy…hopefully it didn't come to that.

"Professor!"

"Yes Draco?" Snape didn't bother looking up from the fire.

"Professor, you've got to come quick!"

Snape sat bolt upright, his full attention on the blonde boy.

"What is it Draco?"

"Just come!" he attempted to pull Snape up from the chair. Snape brushed him off and strode to the dungeon door of the common room, waiting for Draco to lead him to the situation.

Draco ran down the corridor and up the stone steps towards the entrance hall, Snape hot on his heels. Just before the exit, Draco turned abruptly to a silver suit of armour. Snape stared at the armour carefully, holding his laughter back as much as possible.

It was clear that the armour had a child stuffed inside it – a large girl to be precise. But what was more was that the armour had no head or arms; they appeared to have disappeared!

"It was those Weasleys," spat Draco. "The freak twins!"

"Who is inside?" asked Snape coolly.

"Pansy," Draco said quickly, not really concerned for the girl. "What punishment are you gonna give to the Weasleys?" There was an uncanny look in the boy's eyes – one Snape had seen too many times in Lucius's.

"First, Draco, I am going to free your girlfriend," drawled Snape. "Then I will see to the Weasleys."

"_Eh-hem_" came a small cough behind Snape. He closed his eyes momentarily and took a deep breath before turning around and saying sarcastically, "How _nice_ of you to join us, Dolores Umbridge."

"Well, yes, isn't it just lovely?" Dolores said too sweetly.

"Can I help you with anything?"

"Well, I couldn't help but overhear, Severus," she smiled toothily in anticipation, "that the Weasleys are behind this terrible situation," she waved airily in the direction of Pansy Parkinson whose moans of pain were becoming subtly louder.

"That is what Draco believes, yes," said Snape dryly.

"And that you were planning on giving them a punishment?" Dolores' smile grew wider; her cheeks puffed up like a giant toad in mid _ribbit_.

"Yes, if they are the true culprits," Snape said slowly.

"Well I do believe that their reputations speak for them," she gave a fake little laugh, as if this was obvious. Draco laughed nervously, shifting his gaze quickly from Snape to Umbridge.

"Let the evidence speak for us, rather. We don't want to jump to any...wrong conclusions," Snape drawled

Dolores giggled girlishly.

"You are so right, Severus," she continued to giggle but a groan of pain from Pansy cut her off.

"_Exarmo tegumeni,_" Snape uttered and the armour dismantled itself, falling to the floor with a loud clang. Along with the armour, however, fell three hats that had suddenly appeared out of thin air.

Umbridge bent down to pick them up, but Snape muttered "_Accio hats_," before her stumpy fingers could close around the one. Snape stared hard at the hat in his hand. It was pink with a long feather sticking out of it.

"Classic," his lip curved.

"What?" Umbridge snapped, not at all pleased that the hats had been taken from her.

"These hats. Here," with an evident sneer, he passed the hat to Umbridge who, unquestioning, put it on. For a moment she blinked up at Snape, and then the next second her head had disappeared.

"Well? What's the hat doing?" asked Umbridge from an unseen head.

"Take a look for yourself," Snape flicked his wand and the chest of armour drifted up, showing Umbridge's clearly head-lacking reflection.

She gave an ear-splitting scream and grabbed at her own head, pulling the hat off viciously and throwing it on the ground.

"That horrible thing!" she yelled in her high pitched voice while stomping angrily on it.

"Oh, I don't know about that," drawled Snape. "I think it suits you."

Umbridge froze for a second, staring hard at Snape, before smoothing down her robe and hair.

There was a feeble cough from the floor and only now did the two teachers turn to Pansy who was lying on the floor.

"Who did it to you, dear?" said Umbridge too sweetly.

"Weasley," whispered Pansy softly.

"I knew it!" Umbridge stood up straight, her chest puffed out as if she were receiving an award.

"G-Ginny Weasley," Pansy said softly, followed by a few more coughs.

Umbridge seemed to deflate a little but she said, "Well, bad blood gives bad blood. It's no surprise the girl is like that if you look at her brothers."

Snape gripped his wand tighter. His knuckles were turning white. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed to slits. Umbridge, still rambling on about bad blood, hadn't noticed this sudden change in the potion's master.

"I'll deal with this, Dolores," Snape said forcefully.

"Excuse me?" Dolores halted in her soliloquy.

"I said," Snape was speaking through grit teeth, "that I will deal with this."

"Professor Snape," Dolores drew herself up to full height and spoke loudly, "according to educational decree number – "

"Yes, yes," interrupted Snape, "I know all that. You have full right to supervise my punishment. But this is a clear attempt at malevolent violence, against one of my own students. Therefore, as head of Slytherin, I am going to do my job and oversee this student's punishment myself!" Snape finished louder than Umbridge had been speaking.

By now, they had drawn a few straying students' eyes and ears, and whispers were hurrying through the school; Snape was going to punish Ginny Weasley – and _badly_.

He was sitting in his office, waiting. Snape hated to wait, but patience was something he had learned early on in his spy-days. He didn't have to like it, but he'd learnt to live with it. But now...he wiped away some perspiration from his upper lip. His hand lingered over them; his lips were shaking. Did Ginny Weasley feel that? When she had gently investigated his face with her fingers, had she felt the fear seeping through his lips? And now? What was he going to do now? The story had spread quickly through the castle and Snape had no other option but to act on his words. He had sent Draco to fetch her, but she had sent Draco back with a message: she was busy. Snape had then sent Draco again, and he had returned, once again Ginny absent, with another message: she'll come at lunch.

Snape didn't know how to react. He was angry more at himself for getting into this situation in the first place. He hadn't spoken to Ginny in days. She hadn't left her common room at night ever since he gave her that quill. She hadn't spoken to him once in class, merely answering questions in as few words as possible. A few times he thought he saw her staring at him in his classes or in the great hall, but when he looked up he was always wrong.

Maybe he just didn't know how to be..._friends _with someone? He berated himself silently. He had let his walls down. Ginny was by far the better spy than he was; she had kept herself to herself and played her part well. She had played him, Severus Snape, well. He had trusted her...

There was a knock on the door. Three polite taps.

In his nervous state, Snape flicked his wand too quickly and the door banged open. There, in the doorway, stood a slightly startled Ginny Weasley. Her hands were behind her back and Severus couldn't see her wand. Was she really going to try and take him on?

Snape stood up slowly, both his hands resting on his desk although his wand arm twitched towards his wand.

"Come in," Snape said in a determined hard voice, "and close the door behind you."

"Yes, _sir_," Ginny said just as baldly.

Moving with soft feet, Ginny closed the heavy door behind her and walked carefully towards Snape's desk.

"Was it you?" asked Snape, not wasting any time.

"Who stuffed Pansy Parkinson in the suit of armour and then put Headless Hats over her annoying face?" asked Ginny serenely.

"Yes?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"She was busy bullying a first year."

"It is already three quarters through the year. A first year should be able to adequately defend themselves, or otherwise call a teacher for assistance."

"Against a bitch like that?" demanded Ginny.

She was breathing heavily. Snape's eyes were open in alarm. The two stared hard at each other.

"Listen," said Ginny to the point, "if you want to give me detention for looking after my fellow learners, then go for it. But I'm not about to be a coward and leave a first year to fight for him or her self while a fifth year – "

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

Ginny stopped in her speech and stared, her mouth slightly open at the professor.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" repeated Snape.

"I haven't," Ginny said quickly. "I've been to all your classes and everything."

"You haven't been to a late night lesson in a while."

Ginny looked down at her feet. Snape tried to gauge what was going through her mind, when he realised; Ginny was blushing.

Her ears had turned a deep red and a flush had crept up around her neck.

"I have a boyfriend," she said carefully, still looking hard at her feet.

"And your point is?" asked Severus. He wasn't too sure if he liked where this conversation was headed.

"He, er, he thought that I was cheating on him. Because he found out that I was sneaking out at night, but I never came to see him," she blurted quickly.

"So you avoid me because of a boyfriend?" asked Snape incredulously.

"That's partly the reason," if it was possible, Ginny had turned an even darker shade of red.

"Then what else is the reason?"

"I HATE YOU!" shrieked Ginny suddenly. Snape didn't know what had happened, but abruptly Ginny Weasley had burst into a tumult of accusations. "YOU'RE A LYING CHEAT! A FILTHY, SNOTTY NOSED, GIT! YOU HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO COMPASSION, NO HEART, NO NOTHING! YOU'RE A CLUELESS LITTLE LONELY BOY!" she panted hard, tears forming slowly in her eyes, "And I feel sorry for you," she whispered as the tears spilled over and trickled in an easy stream down her cheeks.

Snape didn't know what to do. He stood there, awestruck by the emotions boiling inside this girl. She hated him and she hated herself for feeling sorry for him and the more she hated him the more she felt sorry for him and the more she hated herself.

"It's valentine's day in a few days' time."

Ginny looked up, startled by the professor's words.

"Have you got anything planned? You and your boyfriend?"

"I-I can't go out with him. With my brothers and Harry banned from the team, we have to practice extra hard."

"So you won't be going to Hogsmead for the day?"

"No. Probably going to soak in the rain while searching for the snitch."

"Well, when you have time, come and see me. Here. Tell everyone who asks that you have detention that day after your practice session. You may be dismissed."

With tears still streaming down her face, Ginny left the room.

The silence in the room after the door closed broke Snape down. He fell heavily onto his chair and gripped his head with his hands. His whole body was shaking. What was he doing?

All he could think about was that all he wanted was Ginny back in this room. With a startling realisation, Snape thought, "I miss her."

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**(A/N:_ So there you have it! Not too shabby of a chapter, I don't think. The next time I update, I'm going to put up two chapters at once - yes I've already written them - since the one chapter ends on an, er, awkward note and I need to clarify it quickly...or I could just be mean and leave people in suspence Haha! WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off.)_  
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	8. Chapter 8  Understanding Emotions

**(A/N: _Once again, thank you fantastic reviewers! You're amazing! And now...this is the chapter that I most enjoyed writing. I've decided to put this chapter up and see what reaction I get first before putting up the next one. *evil laugh. Let me know what you think! WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off)_**

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**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 8: Understanding Emotions

Ginny and Ron were walking towards the bathrooms on Valentine's Eve, both drenched in mud and rain water.

"I'm lousy," Ron was whispering to himself over and over.

"You say that to yourself one more time!" Ginny warned through clenched teeth.

"And what? You gonna jinx me?"

"I wouldn't put it past me to do just that!"

"What's with you today?"

"What do you mean?" asked Ginny quickly.

"You're acting all jumpy. Is it that Michael boy that you're seeing? Is he trying to get you to do stuff that you don't wanna do?"

"Whatever I do or don't do with Michael is my own business!" snapped Ginny.

"So you _have_ done something with him?" Ron rounded on Ginny.

She stepped hard into his shoulder while passing him wordlessly and strode into the girl's bathroom.

"Oi!" yelled Ron after her. "Oi, I'm speaking to you!" but Ginny didn't come out of the bathroom.

Instead, she peeled off her flying robes and stepped carefully underneath the hot water beating out of the shower-head. Her long red hair moved like a live animal along her skin as the water rushed over her head. The water also washed away her tears.

She had to face Snape now. How could she? How could she look into those cold eyes and not fall to pieces in front of him? Before, he had always been greasy, nasty, ugly Snape the potion's master. Now...it was different. It was all different.

When she was around him, she could think. Her mind was clear from unwanted thoughts of Harry Potter. She had used Michael simply as a distraction. When her longing for Harry got too much, she had a way out with Michael. She really didn't like him all that much; he was a whining and whinging type of person. But he did the job.

Then she had spent that time with Snape. She had thanked him for his words and his warnings. He had responded with a present...she hadn't used it yet. The quill lay silent and still in her robe pocket, carefully placed next to her wand. She was scared to use it, but she had been tempted to every single time she reached for her wand.

She didn't understand it, but she _wanted_, and very badly so, to talk to Severus Snape. It was as if, dare she think it, she _needed_ him...but for what she was not yet sure.

She scrubbed herself until her skin was raw, thinking all the while. Finally, after rinsing her hair a second time, she had made up a plan. A mad, crazy, suicide plan. But it was the only way she would get Professor Snape out of her head.

She turned the water off and took her time getting dressed into clean robes. She deposited her wand and the quill into her pocket and was just busy wringing out her wet socks from practice when she froze. Her pocket was vibrating.

With her heart sitting somewhat higher than it should, and beating twice as hard as it should, Ginny took the quill out and held it gingerly in her hands. Yes, it was definitely vibrating. That could only mean one thing.

Hastily she dropped to her knees and placed the quill carefully on the ground, point down. The quill stood stock still, suspended oddly in midair without a hand to hold it, before it traced words over the rock floor.

"_Have you forgotten our meeting_?" the words read before sinking slowly into the ground. The quill quivered then fell too.

Ginny picked it up, a little uncertain as to how she should continue, but then wrote, "_No, sir. I was merely getting ready for the occasion_."

She watched as the written words sunk into the stone and wondered whether her reply was a little too vague. Surely he would realise she had been in no condition to see a teacher – or to sit in one's office – after her practice today?

The quill vibrated again and, this time with no hesitancy, she placed the quill on the floor and read the words that appeared.

"_Take your time_."

Feeling satisfied, Ginny dried her wet clothes quickly with a long flurry of her wand and then stuffed them unceremoniously into her bag. She looked at her reflection in the mirror before she left. Well, she thought, at least I look natural.

Three knocks. Snape knew it was her.

"The door is unlocked," he called out, looking expectantly up from the papers he had been grading.

"Sorry I'm late, Professor Snape," said Ginny from the doorway. Snape's eyes narrowed. Her hair was towel dried and hanging loose around her shoulders. Her eyes sparkled from her energies that day. He had to admit; she was a very pretty girl and would only get more beautiful.

"I thought I told you to take your time?" Snape indicated Ginny's wet hair.

"One should never keep a professor waiting," Ginny closed the door behind her and put her bag down in front of it.

"Tea?" asked Snape. He was looking for any excuse not to look at Ginny. She had an aura about her today that he hadn't encountered yet. It was as if her body was using magic without her even knowing. Usually young children displayed acts of magic when they were scared or angry – any extreme form of emotion really – but when they got older then they learnt control and direction through their wands. What emotion was Ginny feeling now? And why was she looking at him like that? Snape shifted uneasily in his seat.

"Tea would be great, thank you, Professor."

Snape realised she was being awfully polite. Much too much so for him. She was hiding something. She had a plan of some sort.

He set about making tea while Ginny took the seat opposite him, tossing her hair flirtatiously over her shoulder.

"How was your practice?" he asked of her, still not looking up.

"Dreadful," she sighed and Snape felt the aura around her dissipate slightly. "To be honest we have absolutely no hope. No hope at all."

"Yes you do," disagreed Snape. "You're faster than the Hufflepuff Seeker, Ginny. You can get the snitch before they do."

"But will I get it soon enough?" she shook her head. "It's a lost cause..."

Snape passed Ginny her teacup and added a chocolate-chip cookie. She raised her eyebrows.

"I have a house elf that is very fond of me," explained Snape.

"You must thank him or her for me," smiled Ginny.

Snape found himself staring and quickly shook his head. The aura around Ginny had returned, if not more powerful than it was before. He found himself suffocating in the power. It was almost as if she had Veela powers.

"Ginny," Snape said quickly, "I must ask you to behave yourself." The sentence came out a little bit more snappy than what Snape intended, but it did the job; he could breath normally now; the power aura was barely noticeable.

"But I'm not doing anything," Ginny looked genuinely surprised.

"Yes, you are, although you don't know it." Ginny continued to look confused. This was not going at all how she planned.

"Then what am I doing?" she asked.

"When Wizards and Witches are young, they have a free flow of power about them," explained Snape, "but when they are old enough and get their wands, that power then gets directed and controlled by the witch or wizard. There are some cases, however," Snape indicated Ginny, "where the power cannot be controlled only through the wand. The power is too great for the wand and as such, the user performs magic at unusual times with unusual results. Unless, of course, they manage to control that power through another source – often their hands."

"But I've never been, er, _overly_-powerful," Ginny frowned.

"I know..." Snape whispered slowly. He could feel the time approaching. It was building up and was almost upon them...

"You-you know?" asked Ginny, her voice rising. "Then when did this-this," she struggled for words, "this _thing_ start happening to me?"

"I believe," said Snape heavily, "that it may have happened in your first year."

Ginny stared hard at him, her eyes wide as understanding dawned on her.

"That's why you've been nice to me all this time?" she asked, her voice calm but her hands clenching the sides of her chair. "You think that something happened in the Chamber! You just want to diagnose me? Watch me? _Investigate me_?" she spat.

"No," Snape was shaking his head sadly, "I've been nice to you because I want to help you."

Her arms slackened their grip on the chair, but her gaze never lifted. Ginny didn't need to steel herself for what she was about to do; she was numb inside with how foolish she was already, so a little more irrationality could do no harm. She pushed her chair out and walked around to the professor. His eyes followed hers, their intensity mesmerising. He didn't know what she was going to do. He expected her to try and hurt him or something, but what happened was the last thing he had wanted.

She put both her hands on either side of his chin and gently lifted his head to look up at her. She looked at him hard; she observed every line, every scar; she moved his hair out of his eyes and traced his forehead; she moved her eyes over him until he felt that she had seen everything on the outside but wanted to see more.

"I need answers, Professor," she said in explanation, her face mere inches away from his, before she lowered her head and he felt her soft lips touch his own.

His eyes wide open, he stared at the girl in front of him. Her eyes were closed, a tear pushing its way out underneath her eyelid. Her hands clenched tighter around his face, but still her lips were only just touching his. He wanted to grope for his wand and expel her away from him. His hand was already feeling around on the table, when the tear that had finally escaped the girl's eye fell and landed on his cheek. He couldn't do it. He couldn't do anything.

All he could do was close his eyes.

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**(A/N:_ And there it is! Yay! So...I know that this isn't supposed to be a romance fanfic, BUT I do need to have some form of bonding. Although, there is a very good and reasonable reason for Ginny's actions. Just gonna have ta wait to find out what! I love it! WonderWhiteRabbit dancing off)_**


	9. Chapter 9  Inclinations

**(A/N:_ Wow! Next chapter up already! Whoop whoop! Ok, I know it's taken a bit more time than I promised, but I absolutely swear it wasn't my fault - varsity work caught up with me and, unfortunately, things do need to happen in order. BUT, here it is! Lots of questions answered! Oh, and this is especially for TemperedRose and AccioDrampires - thank you for your reviews! And to everyone else who reads my story or gives reviews - you guys are Awesome! Wow I'm in a good mood today!_** WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off**)

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**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 9: Inclinations

Snape's mind was still reeling. He couldn't get the memory out of his head. He felt like not even a hundred Pensieves could dispel the sheer thought of that moment in time. Ginny, after removing her lips from his, had said, "Tomorrow night, then," and left Snape, for the first time in a long time, utterly speechless.

Now he was sitting in his special room, lying on his special bed and feeling, if anything, completely special – and hating himself for it. A teenage girl had just kissed him. Out of nowhere. For no particular reason that he could fathom. And then, proceeded to make a date with him.

Was he right in assuming that? When she said, "Tomorrow night, then," she _did_ mean that she wanted to see him again. Right?

But did _he_ want to see _her_? That was the more pressing question.

He held up his hands in front of him, staring at them intently. They were Death Eater hands. They were hands of hate, and anger, and passion. But they had also been other things too...

Despite himself, his mind flitted to a different red-head. Lily.

"_Sev! I didn't expect to see you here!" exclaimed the girl._

"_Yeah, er, sorry I, er" stumbled the younger Severus over his words._

"_Well since you're here then we can go to the game together!"_

"_The game?"_

"_Oh you know! Slytherin versus Hufflepuff! The quidditch game today?" Lily frowned at him. "That is why you were on your way outside, wasn't it?"_

_Trying desperately not to show his guilt, Severus could only nod his head._

"_Perfect! Then you can sit with me!"_

_And with that, Lily grabbed Severus' hand and dragged him off in the opposite direction to where he had wanted to be. But he didn't mind; Lily was holding his hand._

Looking now at his hands, he knew that they were also hands of shame. And regret. And determination.

He raised his eyebrows at himself. Determination huh? If they were so full of determination, then what was he determined to do?

To help Ginny Weasley.

She had done what she had done for a reason. And he wanted to know what that reason was. He wanted to help her control the excess power she had running through her veins. He wanted to help her to become the witch she could. He wanted to help her to be better...better than what he could ever have been.

With his mind set, Snape stood up and with a sweeping look of his room, he traipsed out towards the grounds.

He was late; the game had already started. He spied Potter sitting with Granger, and the Toad sitting a little further down than them. Deciding he didn't want to share the remainder of the game with them, he turned and headed towards the stands exactly behind the large goal hoops that the Hufflepuff Keeper was religiously guarding. He had to turn as an unexpected moan filled through the crowd; apparently Weasley had missed an exceptionally easy goal. He smirked to himself; that boy was in Gryffindore yet he had the courage of a rat.

He climbed the stairs in silence, listening to the commentary that was, he supposed, being monitored by Minerva McGonagall. Finally reaching his seat, he found himself facing the back of Ginny Weasley who was slowly circling the pitch, her eyes darting from side to side. She turned slightly and Snape could see her face, skrewed up in frustration at the lack of a golden glint. Kirke, a Hufflepuff player swerved suddenly and Ginny stared in his direction. Actually, it looked to Snape as if she was staring at _him_. Ginny hesitated. Kirke flew upwards. And the snitch, which had been flittering innocently behind Kirke's ancle, flew off in another direction, Ginny chasing after it.

It was too late though. With another groan from the crowd, the Hufflepuff chasers had managed to score. Snape thought he heard a song from a very green portion of the crowd. His lip curling slightly, he remembered the song that Malfoy had thought up, "Weasley is our King."

Thinking about Weasleys, he turned back to Ginny. She had missed the snitch. But why? She was good enough and fast enough... She had hesitated. That was the answer. She had looked up, looked right at him, and then hesitated before going for the snitch.

He watched her red hair flick behind her in the wind as she swerved and ducked through the other players, once more on the prowl for the snitch. She changed her course suddenly. Snape thought she was going to try and score herself, but then, with dawning comprehension, he stood up and held his breath; Ginny was going for the Snitch! Summerby's eyes widened in fear as the red-head sped directly for him. She reached out a hand, the Hufflepuff Seeker far behind her, and with apparent ease, snatched the snitch from right under Summerby's nose. Zooming around one of the goal's poles, her hand held high with the snitch struggling against her grip, she descended to the ground.

There was an audible sigh from the crowd; the torturous event was over. They had lost, but thanks to Ginny, they hadn't lost too badly; Two hundred and forty against two hundred and thirty.

As her comrades joined Ginny on the ground, Snape felt, more than saw, Ginny looking right up at him. He turned, his cloak billowing around him as the wind carried a hearty chorus of "Weasley is the King," up to his seat, and, with a sigh, made his way back to his office.

Once sitting in his seat behind his dark desk, a few last parchments of late homework sprawled out in front of him, he was surprised to hear an odd sound. It was a buzzing. No...more like...a vibrating.

Snapping to attention, Snape's hand jumped to his pocket. Sure enough, his hand fell on the twin quill. Setting it carefully on the desk in front of him, Snape watched as the quill spelled out a few words.

"_I like fluffy things"_

He stared for a moment as the words disappeared into the wood of the desk. It took him an even longer moment to remember the codes that Ginny had chosen for them. Hastily he wrote back, "_As long as they are pink_", his mouth curling into a smile as he watched the words disappear too.

Gathering his cloak, he hurriedly cleared his desk with a flick of his wand (the parchments rolled up and stacked themselves neatly,) and swept out of his office.

She was waiting for him outside the stretch of wall.

"You're late," she said before adding, "sir."

"I didn't think you'd be out, what with the result of the match." He turned around before she could ask and, when he turned back, found a large door in the wall that definitely hadn't been there before.

But this time, the door looked different. Before, it had resembled the windows inside the room. Now...it was quaint?

"After me, I suppose," smiled Ginny, before opening the door wide and walking into a room that Severus honestly didn't recognise.

"What happened to the windows?" he frowned as he followed Ginny into the room.

"I suppose I don't need them tonight."

"Why not?"

"Because...I suppose I have something else."

"Something that trumps your need to see things clearly?"

"Oh no," smiled Ginny ruefully. "Something that trumps _my ability_ to see things clearly."

Snape was confused.

"Professor, please sit." She indicated the long couch that Severus had been eying carefully. It was covered in a black leather and looked somewhat like a chaise. Next to it was a single armchair that matched the previous furniture.

Apprehensively (what for! Snape demanded in his head,) he sat on the chaise, facing the chair where Ginny had now perched herself quite comfortably.

"I have some questions for you, Sir," she explained.

"You have questions for me?" scoffed Snape. "How about you answer me this first; what gave you the idea to _kiss_ a – a – a," once more, Snape found himself lost for words.

"To kiss a Professor?" provided Ginny, looking down at her nails and trying to hide a smile of amusement.

"A monster!" corrected Snape. He wasn't too sure why he had phrased it exactly in those words, but he felt that he was right. Scratch that; he _knew _that he was right. He was a monster.

"You are not a monster," snapped Ginny, her eyes looking up from her fingers and staring hard at Snape. "I knew that the moment you first touched me, in this room, on this hand. I knew you were no more a monster than Lupin is."

"Not saying much considering he's a werewolf," Severus was actually sulking! He didn't like that Ginny was saying these things about him. These _nice_ things about him. He wanted her to hate him. To despise him. To remind him every second of how much of a _not nice_ person he was. He wanted her to treat him like he deserved to be treated; like the traitor he was.

"That's exactly my point! He wasn't made a monster by his choice! It was, I dunno, circumstances or fate or destiny or something!"  
"No one deserves a fate where they hate themselves for living, but where living is the only choice that they have!" roared Snape. Ginny looked slightly frightened. Good! Snape thought loudly in his mind. She should be scared! She should feel frightened! She should want to hold my hand?

For Ginny had done just that. She had slipped her fingers gently through his own, and, to add insult to injury, she was smiling!

"That's why you aren't a monster," she explained. "There is something in you that wants to fight back against what you have been made into." Snape had the decency to try to cover up his confusion – he was the professor after all – but he couldn't hide anything from Ginny in this room. "You still have some good in you fighting back," explained Ginny. "And while you can still fight, so can I."

"You're determination depends nothing on me," whispered Snape.

"No, my determination doesn't," agreed Ginny. "But my ability to succeed does."

Seeing that she had more to say, Snape kept quiet.

"I have had a strange inclination since my first year towards the Dark Arts. I never had it _during_ my first year – only afterwards. Only after...the chamber," she whispered the last words, but hearing them brought strength back to her voice. Snape sat deadly still, as though any movement on his part would stop the flow of words now issuing from the girl. Words that he didn't think he would hear; words that could possibly answer his theory about Ginny Weasley.

"In my second year, we had Lupin as our Defence Teacher. Despite never having met him before or known anything about werewolves, during one of our lessons he touched me and I immediately knew – somehow beyond my understanding – that he was what he was. I didn't tell anyone; I thought I was going crazy to assume on some strange and weird feeling that my teacher was a werewolf. And then at the end of that year, I heard that he was leaving because someone had let slip that he was a werewolf...I had been right."

"That, er," Snape finally cut in as Ginny took a steadying breathe, "was me. Who, as you so delicately put it, 'let slip' about Lupin. It was a childish thing to do, but I suppose it would have come out sooner or later. Yes," he added at Ginny's raised eyebrow, "I am defending what I did."

"Anyway," she continued, "that was the first time I'd really experienced anything that...peculiar before. I was stupid. I thought it made me special. And then, in class, every spell seemed to come to me so easily. I thought I was gifted. But then I started thinking about it; I didn't perform so well in charms or transfiguration. Potions I did well in but everything else was sloppy. I started to work harder and then, one day, something...I dunno..._snapped_."

Snape breathed sharply. Something had snapped? Did that mean that something had broken or had fallen in place? He voiced his question.

"Both."

"Both?"

"Yes. I felt myself break and at the same time felt something else settle in. I had always like Harry Potter," she ignored a smirk from Snape, "but just before my third year, during the holidays, I started to have terrible dreams. Of graveyards and muggles getting killed by green flashes of light. And, worst of all, I started to have an obsession with Potter."

"An obsession? As in you liked him very much?"

"No, not in a 'liking' sense. As in a, I don't know, 'stalk him and tear him apart' sense. You know?"

"You wanted to kill him?"

"Yes!" she nodded enthusiastically, but then added "But no at the same time. It was as if a _part_ of me wanted to kill him and it was aided by the fact that I like him."

"You still like him?" asked Snape.

"Very much," she smiled dolefully. "I know you won't understand. You hate him as much as, I think, he hates you. But when it comes to love...I don't think one gets to choose who one falls in love with. Or when. Or how many times. All that I know is...I l-l-love Harry."

"You're a very romantic person, aren't you Miss Weasley?" Snape commented, having little else to say.

"I may be romantic, but that doesn't mean that I believe in happy endings. Quite the opposite; I believe in hard-earned endings. Ones where you can really say that what you did was everything that you could do."

"And what about everything that you couldn't? What about the lives that couldn't be saved? The apologies that couldn't be said? The moments of regret that plague us all?"

"If you regret something that much," said Ginny after a pause, "then you should try and fix the mistakes you made."

"And if it is too late?"

"It's never too late," Ginny said angrily. Snape was surprised by the sudden flare in her eyes and how her hair seemed to bristle its agreement with her words. "There is _always_ something that can be done!"

Snape felt that the conversation was heading awfully close to home; he didn't want Ginny to know about his past...he didn't want anyone to know about his past come to think of it.

"Anyways," Ginny calmed down all too quickly for Snape's liking, "so in third year, I come to school and discover a mad man teaching me defence. But, again, I touched him...and I knew that he wasn't who he said he was. I could _feel_ something else in him. Again, I only found out later that the man who called himself Mad-Eye Moody and who had been teaching me for the whole year was, in fact, _not_ Mad-Eye Moody and an imposter using a potion to disguise himself. After the death of Cedric..." her voice quivered slightly and then stopped.

"We all blame ourselves for what happened that day," Snape said quietly. "We all think we could have – or should have – done something to save Cedric."

Ginny shook her head slightly.

"That's not just it though... The whole year, my, er, longing? I think I can call it that. My longing for Potter grew. It got so bad that I had to find a, er, exit for it. I couldn't use magic; it would make things much worse. But then, at the Yule Ball, Neville had asked me to go along with him. And, I, er," Ginny's face had gone as red as her hair and she was looking down as if trying to force herself through the ground. Snape felt something tingle in the air; that weird aura that he had felt around Ginny the night that she had kissed him had come back.

"You kissed him." Snape made it sound like he was saying something very obvious out of a text book.

"I did," Ginny looked up at Snape, expecting to see something there that wasn't. He had reverted his face to a blank page once again. He was dead to emotions. The world could collapse and he would merely acknowledge it with a polite nod of the head. Ginny didn't care; he was still listening. "And when I did, I felt something else. It wasn't a passionate kiss or anything. It was, I think, just the fact that I was close to him. That I had some type of contact with him that wiped away...everything. For the first time in ages, my head was clear of thoughts of Potter. Of anyone. So I made a plan; I had to get a boyfriend."

"But you never dated Neville," Snape stated. He laughed inwardly at her amazed look at his knowledge of her movements. He had always found it important to keep up with the gossip at Hogwarts, made especially easy by the teachers who loved to gossip more than (if possible,) most of the students.

"No," said Ginny. "I didn't date him. I felt terrible for doing it, but the same night I kissed Neville, I found Michael and started to get to know him better. It wasn't until the end of the year that we got together. When _he_ returned," Snape knew she meant the Dark Lord, "my head was bursting. I ended up in the hospital wing for most of the Final Task of the Triwizard Tournament. All I could think about was Harry, Harry, Harry. And then Michael really came in handy...er..." she blushed again, but Severus Snape knew better than to pry into a woman's personal life unless she offered.

"So what now?" he asked, politely leading her off the topic of her third year.

"Things kinda went hazy after that. I mean, we ended up in Sirius's house, after realising that he wasn't the bad guy everyone had suspected. And in that house...I dunno, it must have been all of the protective spells put on us and on the house and on everything, but while I was there, I could think straight."

Snape nodded his head slowly.

"It is possible," he said cautiously, "that with all of the magic surrounding the house, that your sense of magic was overwhelmed. You were put into a state of shock that allowed only your, er, _true_ self to surface."

"I didn't think of that..." agreed Ginny. "But you see, that's exactly my point. I didn't think of anything. But then this year, back here at Hogwarts, it all came back. And it doesn't help that Harry is _everywhere_ that I am. So then there I was again with Michael...using him..." Severus noted the guilt in her voice all too easily. "And then, when the DA thing started, I was intrigued by this room because it gave me something I needed; quiet. A place to think. Whatever I needed, it was inclined to give to me."

"And I suppose this is where I come in?" he didn't show the excitement he was feeling inside. So many answers were being given to him! He wanted to scribble them all down; his head was going to explode with his theory that was slowly being fulfilled.

"Yes. You found me. I took you here. And then you touched me."

Snape frowned for a moment. He had touched her? When? He remembered her touching him – she had touched his face and his lips – but he didn't remember...he looked down at his hand which was still linked with Ginny's. He had touched her; he had put his hand on hers.

"And what did you find – sense, rather – when we had this physical contact?" he asked apprehensively.

"Nothing," Ginny smiled widely, joyfully, wonderfully. "Absolutely nothing! It was fantastic! Absolute bliss! It was an absolute abyss of nothing! For the first time in a long time, when I was around you...I could think! I could breathe! I could fathom my own conclusions without having a nagging sense of something else to change my ideas!"

"Sounds – "

She cut him off

"brilliant, I know! And, it gets better; the more time I spent with you, the better my control got. Something in you, Professor, something so dark or so strong, I dunno, but something so hectic that I got it when I was around you!"

"Something in me?"

"Yes! You are naturally inclined, naturally capable, to hide things! To set things in your mind aside!"

"It is called Occlumency," said Snape, suddenly the pieces falling apart. Blocking your mind to powerful magic needed powerful magic. Or a powerful will to block out that magic. So, Ginny Weasley, when she touched him, had experienced his ability of Occlumency. Possibly even Legilimens.

Ginny's eyes were sparkling. She was grinning foolishly like a child who had found an easter egg three months after the hunt.

"You still haven't explained why...you...er...kissed _me_." Severus felt foolish even after he had said it, but he knew it was a question that had to be asked.

Ginny frowned slightly, but her smile still remained. She tilted her head slightly to the side and looked at Snape, amused by his question.

"I told you; I needed answers. I needed to know more about you."

"And what did you find out?"

"That I could trust you."

"How did you find that out through our – that – er," he was feeling more and more like a school boy again, "physical contact?"

"A girl can tell a lot by a kiss," Ginny smirked. "But it wasn't just that. The effect that you have on me," she blushed at what her statement implied and then rushed on, "it's been wearing off. I needed to know if I could still get it out of you. It worked with Neville and it works somewhat with Michael. So I thought I had to try it on you."

"It's wearing off? That's...interesting..." Snape's mind was rushing through ideas quickly before he landed on the best one he had. "Lessons!" he exclaimed.

"Excuse me sir?"

"Lessons. I will give you Occlumensy lessons so that you can clear your mind and rid yourself of unwanted thoughts about Potter."

Ginny hurled herself at the professor, her arms flung around him while her hair spread over his face. She hugged him, mumbling unintelligible words into his shoulder. Snape was...stunned. He was frozen. Once more, he found that he could do little else but let the girl get her silliness over with and withdraw from him. She sat next to him on the chaise, their robes matching the dark leather and meshing together to fall, allied as one, over the edge of it.

"I didn't understand a word of that," he drawled humorously.

"I was just saying...thank you," Ginny blushed.

"My pleasure. Although you shouldn't thank me just yet."

Ginny nodded without really thinking before saying, "I, er, guess I should get back to my dorm huh?" she asked, somewhat awkwardly.

"That would be a very good idea."

"One more thing," Ginny stared hard at Severus Snape. She wanted to do it one more time. To feel the absolute nothing of her own mind just one more time before she started the hard work that lay ahead of her.

"Ginny...don't you think one time is enough?" Severus asked slowly. Ginny carried on staring into his dark eyes. "Ginny?" Ginny shook her head, and, funnily enough, Severus sighed in resignation.

But Ginny just smiled and held up her hand. Raising his hand, Snape put his palm against hers. She closed her eyes, as if savouring something delicious. Snape tried to feel something...the aura around Ginny, magic coming through her hands, but he couldn't feel anything; Ginny was completely closed. She was completely herself.

He wished he had an inclination as to what she was thinking, but then her eyes snapped open, she smiled and then casually stood up.

"When's my first lesson?" she asked.

"I would say tomorrow night at six, but I'm actually...preoccupied at that time," Snape sneered as he thought about Potter's Occlumens lessons. "I might only be done after midnight."

"I'd prefer lessons in the early morning. Before breakfast. When the castle is asleep."

"I suppose I could manage that."

Ginny smirked.

"Unless you're not a morning person," she said.

"Most are under the impression that I'm not a person at all," Snape returned the smirk.

Ginny smiled sadly.

"They're all wrong."

"Or, they're all right."

She shook her head vigorously.

"I don't believe that. You're not a bad person, Severus."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Er, _Sir_," Ginny corrected, a red flush creeping slightly up her neck.

With an amused glint in his eye, Snape wondered whether his two Occlumens students would be anything alike. No, he definitely thought Ginny would get it faster than Potter. After all, Potter's problem wasn't strictly speaking a form of Legilimens. It was a connection that needed no eyecontact, no close proximity, only, from the looks of it, extreme emotion...it was almost as if the boy and the Dark Lord were one feeling being. As if the Dark Lord didn't have enough of himself to feel with, and now he needed another exit.

"Professor?" Ginny said for about the third time.

"Huh?" Snape looked quickly to Ginny who was now standing by the door of the room.

"I asked, is it alright for us to start tomorrow morning?"

Snape's arm tingled slightly.

"No..." he said slowly, not able to betray a look to his arm. "Not tomorrow. We'll decide on a day the normal way."

"Those quills come in handy," Ginny smiled and sadly looked to Severus, alone in the white room on the chaise, black against black. "You're not a bad person," she repeated.

And then she was out the door.

Snape sat for a long time before he rose and walked out the room too, his arm stinging along the Dark Mark.

He was being summoned.

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**(A/N: _So tell me what you think? Good? Not good? There's still a bit more emotional blackmail going to be going on - next chapter! Whoop ^_,^ WonderWhiteRabbit gleefully awaiting your replies!)_**


	10. Chapter 10  Preferences

**(A/N: _Thank you once agian for reviews, followers and favourites! Your awesome-ness cannot be expressed through mere words. Things need to start getting dark, no? Let the shadows commence *evil laugh*. WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off)_**

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**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 10: Preferences

"My Lord," Snape's head was still facing the floor. The Dark Lord hadn't told him to rise...he knew what that meant; he would have to grovel.

"Severus..." Voldemort whispered the name, relishing the suppressed chill coursing through his loyal servant's body. "You were supposed to be watching the boy."

"Yes, My Lord," Snape said to the cherry-wood floor.

"Have you?"

"I have been observing him every day."

"Apparently, not enough!" Voldemort slapped something down onto the table. Snape winced as he heard the unknown object crumple underneath the Dark Lord's hands. Chancing himself a glance, Snape looked up to see Harry Potter's face plastered over a magazine cover, the image scowling up at the Dark Lord – apparently Potter's own copy was just as stupid as the original. Snape also saw the name of the magazine; the Quibbler.

"My Lord, may I say something?" he felt stupid at the words, but he needed permission in any case.

"Fine, rise. Speak. Make it quick. I have better things to be going on about."

"That magazine, my Lord, is the Quibbler. It is filled with rubbish and nonsense that will surely hinder the truth behind the words."

"Truth?" whispered Voldemort. Snape looked down quickly. Had he said too much? "You have not read this article, have you Snape?" he spat out the name.

"No, my Lord," this time, Snape did not avert his eyes. He looked into the red pupils directly, his black liquid eyes showing no hint of fear. Indeed, his face showed absolutely nothing at all.

Voldemort noticed. He had always known that Severus was a good Occlumens. A good Legilimens too...but this was different. Something had changed the man. He was still _his _man, oh yes, but he was changed...

"How is your other mission?" asked Voldemort suddenly.

"My Lord?"

Yes, there it was; a glimmer of fear. Snape had felt it flash onto his face too, and had quickly set it aside. He could protect Ginny better if he didn't show anything at all.

"I need to see your progress," Voldemort stepped forwards.

For the first time in a long time, Snape stepped back from the Dark Lord. He did not know if he could hide this...it was all he had been thinking about for the past hour since he had left Hogwarts. Ginny's hand against his. Her look of pity. Her look of hope.

He stole himself and stepped forwards, head raised, eyes forward. The Dark Lord curved his lips upwards, his tongue gripped between his teeth in a mad smile. One second, Snape was standing in the dark room with a red floor and a sparkling fireplace, the next, his vision was clouded. Voldemort was sinking quickly into his mind. He was searching. Pacing through images and memories and feelings and emotions – all of which were fake. Untrue. Moulded by Severus for the sole purpose of leading the Dark Lord astray.

There he was torturing muggles. There he was listening in on Dumbledore and the silly Divination teacher outside a room in the Hogshead. There he was strolling nonchalantly through the corridors of Hogwarts, dispatching couples with swishes of his wand. And then there he was, beside the Dark Lord as he broke out eleven Death Eaters from Azkaban.

But the Dark Lord already knew all of that. He didn't want to see that. He wanted to see the girl.

Snape felt him dig deeper into his mind, images flashing faster and faster before him it was a wonder the Dark Lord could discern them at all! He was feeling slightly nauseous. It was taking all of his will power not to fight against the torrent of images before him, to get the man – the _beast_ – out of his head.

"WHERE IS SHE!" Voldemort withdrew from Snape's mind, and Snape found himself back in the room, having fallen to one knee in front of Voldemort. Perspiration slowly trickled down his spine. The Dark Lord had never tried that hard before to find out something from him; Snape had always put out little memories that could settle him.

"My Lord!" panted Snape, his hand clutching his bent knee as he steadied himself on the ground with the other. "Who?"

"The girl!" Voldemort swung his wand in a wild angry ark and Snape was dragged across the ground, bashing against the far wall. Next to him, the fire crackled in apparent delight.

"Do you mean Ginny Weasley?" Snape whispered quickly. "Because, My Lord, I was not hiding the girl from you!"

Voldemort stopped his hand inches from another angry movement. He looked hard at Snape. The man still had the ability to look defiant while crumpled on the floor. He flicked his wand, just to make sure; Snape was banged again against the wall. Some dust trickled slowly down and landed on his greasy head.

Voldemort turned his back on him, partially to let the man shiver in fear, and another part to hide his growing curiosity of the girl. Snape took his time getting to his feet. Let the Dark Lord simmer for a bit, he thought, brushing the dust out of his hair. His hand came back with blood on it, and indeed he could feel a slight light-headedness about him.

Voldemort, seemingly smelling the blood with his back still to Snape, said, "I believe you Severus. Now get out of here. And clear up your _mess_ while you're at it."

Snape, with a great show of scampering around the room, magicked away the streak of blood left on the wall and set the carpet right again. He bowed low to the ground, although Voldemort had still not looked at him, and then left.

With the door closed behind him, he walked under the moon-lit sky towards the pond, intending to have himself a large firewhiskey back in Hogsmead, when he stopped; there was someone following him. He pretended to rearrange his robes, drawing his wand while he was at it, and then continued along his brisk path. After a dozen or so steps, however, he turned and, with a hard mental thought of "_Petrificus Totalis!_" his follower was frozen – literally – in her tracks.

The rigid form teetered for a moment before falling with a hard thud on the ground, face forward. Snape flicked his wand again; it would not be a good idea to anger the Dark Lord further with a tall tale of a Death Eater on Death Eater attack.

"YOU FILTHY SCUM!" the form shrieked the moment the spell was lifted.

A tall woman stood before Severus, her black hair back in its wild former glory but her eyes still haunted with the recent ghost of Azkaban.

"Tut tut, Bellatrix. It's no good getting angry at me just because I was the one the Dark Lord chose to help free you and your...playmates."

"He needed no help from you!" spat Bellatrix Lestrange. "He's more powerful than anyone! And needs no help from anyone!" Her pupils dilated to a mad size.

"Including you, then?" questioned Snape, looking bored at his fingernails.

Bellatrix halted, her eyes looking Snape up and down with the look of an animal choosing a place to strike.

"The Dark Lord said that you had my wand," she said eventually, her voice reverting to a business-like tone. _Most likely going to run to daddy right after I leave_, Snape smirked at his thoughts.

"The Dark Lord did indeed hand over the wands to me," Snape nodded his head slowly. He still didn't understand why Voldemort had done that. Surely it would make more sense to give the wands to their rightful owners; they were more use in the hands of them than in _his_.

"So!" snapped Bellatrix, her fingers sprawled out for the implement. "Give it to me!"

"I was told to keep the wands, little Bella," sneered Snape. "I was not told to give them away."

"You are not giving them away!" she shrieked, her voice hysterically high. "You are _returning_ them!"

"I was not instructed to do that either," Snape drawled, his lips curving into an astonished "o". He was enjoying himself.

"You..." whispered Bellatrix. "You SNAKE!" she leapt at Snape, hands scratching and clawing at the air, long fingernails sprawled in an effort to reach his face. But Snape had two things on his side; one, naturally, was his wand. The other was that living with Sirius Black had more uses than he had thought; Bellatrix was nearly exactly like the man in terms of anger management.

He merely pointed his wand at her and a thick gust of air shot out. There was a peculiar moment where Bellatrix was still clawing at the air, her legs still running forwards, but she was going nowhere, held in midair by the wind. And then the next second she was pushed backwards, rolling along the grassy ground. She sat up, her legs splayed before her, her crumpled robe adding to the madness in her eyes.

"You will regret this, Snake!"

"The only thing I would regret is disobeying direct orders. If you have something to say, take it up with the Dark Lord, not me."

Snape swished his robe around him, pleased at his performance, and stepped into the pond once more. He smirked at the mad woman, still sitting on the ground like a kindergarden student, before he twisted slightly and disapparated.

His room in the Hogshead smelt musty when he appeared there, letting out a deep held in sigh. But there was also something else in the room that his nostrils sniffed eagerly.

Following his nose, he saw a silver platter placed on a small coffee table, laden with a cottage pie and a tall firewhiskey. A letter lay on the side of the tray.

Severus opened it hesitantly; it wasn't marked with a name. But he should have expected this; Dumbledore's slanted writing filled the page.

"_Severus,_" Snape began to read.

"_I will not be back at Hogwarts when you return; I have some important business to attend to. If certain people ask (no reference here to people who have an uncanny appearance of a frog, none at all,) _– Severus smirked at Dumbledore's humour – _I have gone on a hunt for a particularly good book. I will share more with you when I return. Until then, try not to kiss any more of my students will you?_

_Always your preference,_

_Dumbledore._

Snape stared hard at the last three lines. Try not to kiss any more of _his_ students? She was Snape's student – not Dumbledores! Furthermore, how did he even know about the kiss in the first place? It wasn't like he had _wanted _the girl to kiss him! And there was another point! _She_ had kissed _him_! He hadn't done anything! He had just stood there!

Oh no, Snape mused. But that was just the point; he hadn't done anything. He should have dispelled her away from him...why didn't he? He couldn't, that was why. He had had absolutely no power while Ginny was touching him. Did that mean that she was withdrawing power from him into her?

"_Always your preference_" Snape smirked. Another little joke of Dumbledore's. Of course Dumbledore was _preferred_ over the Dark Lord.

"_Dumbledore_"

The man that always had a plan...but, apparently, never shared it. Didn't he know it was never good to go at things alone? Snape had learnt that from Dumbledore, and yet Dumbledore didn't follow his own advice.

Snape reached over and downed the firewhiskey, smiling bitterly as it burnt his throat. He was impressed to see it filled itself up when he placed it back down on its tray. He sat down on the moth-eaten chair by the table and then helped himself to the pie. He was quite glad that the plate didn't refill itself; one helping was more than enough for his skinny frame. But he swallowed the second helping of firewhiskey with a pleased grimace.

Walking back towards the castle, his steps sure of themselves although his head was now happily buzzing from his two drinks, Snape could only think of two things:

Dumbledore was going to find a book. What book?

And, his head was still bleeding.

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**(A/N: _Enter Bellatrix! I love her character to bits and pieces! So evil and twisted! And Dumbledore? How can you not love the man? Once again I eagerly await your views and replies and thoughts and encouragement and all that jazz ;) WonderWhiteRabbit hopping gleefully off!)_**


	11. Chapter 11  Last Choice

**(A/N: _We rejoin Snape after a long, long night. His head, still bleeding, is the last thing on his mind. Please read and enjoy! And let me know what you think! That's the best part of writing! _**_WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off**)**_

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**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 11: Last Choice

A third thing occurred to Snape as he entered through gates of Hogwarts, the winged boars topping the gates grinning madly at him. How did Dumbledore _know_? That he and Ginny had kissed. He stumbled over his thoughts. No. How did Dumbledore know that Ginny had kissed him. That was more like it.

But his thoughts wondered on past the kiss to a more pressing matter; why hadn't the Dark Lord been able to see Ginny in his head? He hadn't been trying to hide the girl – trying to hide something from that mad man was the equivalent of suicide – and he had been thinking about her the whole time...in terms of the logistics of Legilimens, it didn't make any sense.

Unless the girl had done something to him? Maybe she had intensified his ability? Or maybe it was _her_ ability that had intensified.

Either way, here was another piece of the puzzle. He wished he had his notebook with him. Over the days it had become more and more difficult to discern one thought from another on a page as he added more and more scribbles to each page, linking the facts together into a large spiderweb of ideas, theories, and, hopefully, eventually, the truth.

He had entered the entrance way, the large double staircase leading up towards the first floor lit by sparkling fairy lights (literally fairies holding little lights, their bums stuck to the staircase, their high voices twittering to each other in bursts of gossip.) Filch, it appeared had still not managed to remove the little critters since Valentine's Day. Snape cringed inwardly as he remembered, once again, Ginny's kiss.

He thought it was his imagination – obviously too much thinking about someone would make you see them everywhere – but he could have sworn he heard Ginny's voice.

"Professor?"

There it was again. But that was definitely a voice. Ginny was definitely here. His eyes travelled up the staircase, and there, sitting about a third up the way, was Ginny Weasley.

"It's the middle of the night!" Snape said angrily, striding up to Ginny who had not risen from her seat.

"Actually, it's the beginning of the morning," Ginny saw Snape growl, "Sir."

"Think you're real funny, don't you, Miss Weasley?"

"I do try to improve my skills of communication, Professor Snape, whenever I get the chance."

"Five points from Gryffindore," Snape snapped. He was miffed. No, he was really really peeved!

Ginny stared hard at him.

"I apologise, _Sir_, for my outbreak," she said through grit teeth.

"Why are you out of bed outside of hours?" demanded Snape.

"I would have gone straight to bed, as instructed by a _really nice person_, but I got a note instructing me to come here and wait for an apparent _really nasty person_."

"I'm sorry I'm a 'really nasty person,' but it's not as if I didn't warn you! It's not as if I have any sort of choice for the type of person I am!" Snape had snapped. He couldn't stand this-this-this _girl_! Who was she to speak to him like that? Who was she in the larger scheme of things? What contribution to the fight was she making?

"You're bleeding."

"If you had any idea about what I do, about what I have been made to do! You would not sleep for weeks!"

"I said, you're bleeding."

"I risk my neck for you people! I put my life on hold for the better good!"

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, SEVERUS – YOU'RE BLOODY WELL BLEEDING!" Ginny's voice rang out in the air. The fairies lining the staircase all stopped chatting to stare at the two people on the staircase; the only two people awake in the castle.

Severus also stopped his ranting. He had lost control. His hair fell wildly around his face. His eyes sparkled with his energy. Persperation fell down the back of his neck. Oh, wait. That wasn't sweat.

" – blood falling all the way down your back," he brought his attention back to Ginny who had now stood and was peering around him to see where the blood originated. "You need to go to Madame Pomfrey."

"I can heal myself, thank you Miss Weasley."

"Right, Sir," Ginny nodded her head but couldn't help rolling her eyes. "So you're going to heal yourself when you can't even see where you're injured?"

"I have my ways," said Snape, although he sounded a little reluctant.

"Maybe, Professor," Ginny said tentatively, "maybe I can help?"

Snape looked at her long and hard. When it came to healing, a fourth year student would be his last choice, but when it came down to it, she was right; in all honesty it would be difficult to fix the gaping wound in the back of his head without messing it up a bit. And he didn't want to go to Madame Pomfrey – she would just tell Dumbledore and the man had more things to worry about than him. Not for the first time, Snape found himself thinking about the book that Dumbledore had referred to.

"Professor?" Ginny's query brought Snape back to the present. Maybe his head had given off too much blood.

"You can help," Snape said with a sigh, but immediately regretted the breathe – his vision swung before him and he took an involuntary step upwards as his body fell forwards.

Forwards onto Ginny.

She swung his momentum around and he landed on his rear end, as if he had been planning on sitting down the whole time. Ginny was slightly out of breath from hauling the professor around, but she had a glimmer of a smile on her face.

"Something funny, Miss Weasley?"

"We tend to do a lot of falling over each other, Sir," Ginny giggled but couldn't hold it in; she started to laugh. Snape stared at her, awed at her ability to see the lighter side of the situation, and also because he couldn't bring himself to do anything more – once again he could feel that pressing power of hers. Although this time, he didn't want it to stop. It was the most soothing thing to his ears; the laughter of a girl. More importantly, the laughter of a girl with him, instead of laughing at him.

Ginny must have caught the look that Snape was giving her because she quickly stifled her giggles.

"Sorry about that, Professor," she was still smiling. "Now, where would you like me to take you?"

"I'm perfectly capable of walking on my own," Snape attempted to stand up, but he wobbled precariously and found himself instead held up by the sure shoulder of the girl next to him.

"Yes, Sir, I'm certain you're _absolutely_ capable of walking on your own. Just not at this precise moment, am I right?" Ginny asked, as if she were making a general enquiry in class. "So, off to the dungeons then?"

Snape merely grunted; he couldn't get the energy to do any more than that. His head was swimming slightly and his vision was more than a little blurred. He allowed the girl to take most of his weight and to lead him back down the stairs and then into the long passageway that lead to his office in the dungeons. He had his official room there. She could set him up there if she wanted. Looks like his secret room was going to do without him tonight.

In his office, Ginny placed him carefully on his chair and looked at him calculating.

"Sir, are you ok?"

"If I was ok I wouldn't need the help from a teenager, now would I?" Snape drawled – not because he wanted to sound rude, but because his tongue felt like it had no energy to move.

"This teenager is more than willing and capable to do a little bit of healing," sniped Ginny, her arms crossed over her chest in a very motherly fashion. Snape recognised the movement from something that Molly Weasley would do.

"Then get on with it!" Snape tried to sound like his usual brisk self, but once again his words were slightly slurred. He took a few deep breaths and then instructed the girl. "Revival potion – green – in my top drawer. Blood replacement potion – obviously red – right next to it. Scar-repellent cream in the back room cupboard. Marked clearly. Essence of Dittany will be best – rather not have you waving your wand about unnecessarily."

Ginny ran around the room, collecting all that Snape instructed her to and then stood behind the man, her tongue grit between her teeth, as she sifted the oily hair to one side.

"So, er," she began as she cleaned the wound on the back of Snape's head, "do you mind me asking, Sir, why, er, is your hair, er..."

"Always oily?" finished Snape with a grunt when she trailed off.

"Well...I mean...yeah."

Snape's lip curled upwards.

"I take plenty of showers if that's what you're asking," he winced as Ginny swabbed directly at the wound. "I've always had oily hair. Made worse by this dungeon full of fumes from inexperienced potion-makers."

"I may have a remedy for you?" Ginny said tentatively. "It's a shampoo that specialises in slippery skulls. There's a whole range as well from the on-the-go Wizard to the Pamper-me-Perfect Witch."

"Ginevra," Snape drawled. "I have never had much time for 'pampering' myself. Who do I need to look good for in any case?"

Ginny huffed, both at the use of her proper name as well as at the professor's response.

"Yourself of course!" she dabbed a little too hard and Snape let out a hiss of pain. Ginny threw the cotton swab onto the table and picked up the dittany. Two drops later, a smell of burning skin, and the wound had bubbled to the surface and moulded itself closed, turning into a long pink scar.

"I mean I dunno why you keep doing this to yourself. Just 'cause you've done bad things doesn't mean that you're a bad person." Ginny picked up the scar-repellant cream and smeared it over her finger before carefully applying it to the scar. "And think about it – if you ever want forgiveness for your actions, then the first thing you're gonna have to do is forgive yourself!"

Snape turned suddenly, grabbing Ginny's hand. He pulled her close. His face was inches from hers. His eyes glittered with an emotion that Ginny could not place. His teeth ground together, crushing words closed before he could mutter them.

"Why won't you talk to me?" Ginny whispered. "If you want to help me, if you want me to trust you..."

Black looked hard into brown. Snape could feel himself falling. His eyes flitted. His eyelashes drooped. His head slumped forwards and his body went limp.

Ginny was caught unawares, but playing on the quidditch team hadn't been for null; she grasped the professor before he fell off his chair completely and pushed him back into the chair.

Panting slightly, Ginny let go of the man carefully, making sure that he didn't fall. Her eyes were wide in surprise. The man had fainted! She reasoned it must have been the blood loss. She scowled as she looked at the two undrunk potions on the table; revival and blood replacement. He must have known that he would faint, otherwise why the revival potion?

She looked the professor up and down. She didn't care what he said; she would _make_ him take better care of himself if she had to. She took a hesitant step towards the lying man. He had a slight frown covering his forehead and she gently smoothed it out. Her hand lingered on his face.

One more time.

Just one more time.

That was all that she wanted; to feel the nothingness one more time. The more time went by, the less Ginny could control the urges within her. Urges that she didn't understand. She knew that she liked Harry Potter. She had liked him ever since her first year and even more since. But this was becoming ridiculous! Her mind was plagued with memories of the boy that she was certain she didn't know about. She had, at first, thought that they were merely ideas that her fantasizing brain had imagined up, but after reading that article in the Quibbler, Ginny knew now that those things that she had been seeing weren't just thought up scenarios. Those were actual memories. Of a graveyard with death eaters and Harry Potter tied to a gravestone. Those were images of the actual past. But she didn't understand how those memories came to lie within her head. And she definitely didn't like how they played with her heart.

Slowly, afraid to stir the man, Ginny lowered her head. Snape's lips were warm. His breathing shallow. His skin rough. And Ginny loved it. She loved the feel of her hands on his face. The tingle in her stomach as her lips brushed her unconscious companion. She stayed there for a few seconds, waiting. And waiting. For the nothingness. The emptiness. The absolute bliss of her own mind.

But it didn't come.

Ginny forced her lips harder onto Snapes. Again, she felt nothing. She had no feeling of pressure rising. No relief.

Startled by this reaction, as well as her own actions, Ginny hastily stepped away. Had Snape changed? Did he no longer have that same power that he had had the first time? Had Ginny stolen away that power?

Stumbling backwards in horror, Ginny tripped over a chair. The noise echoed through the room. As if afraid of the very noise that she was making, Ginny sprinted towards the door and tore through the corridors of Hogwarts, heading away from everyone. Away from everything. All that she wanted to do was remove her awful presence from those that she could hurt.

Away from Ron and Hermione and Michael and Luna. Away from Harry. Away from Snape.

This was her last choice.

No. This was her only choice.

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**(A/N: _And presto! The next chapter revealed! Eagerly awaiting your thoughts and ideas and replies and anything else you can think of! Thank you to the brilliant people who have already reviewed - your following is what gets me to write! _**_WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off**)**_


	12. Chapter 12  Diverse Breeds

**(A/N:_ Next chapter uploaded! Sorry for the delay - I went camping over the weekend! Caught some awesomely HUGE fish (no, really, they were like thiiiiiiiiiis big!) and then when I got home I was super tired, but I didn't forget about you awesome readers and reviewers who are painstakingly waiting for this next chapter - and soooo, without further ado, please read this chapter and let me know what you think and why you think it! Your thoughts make me type all the more faster! Wonderwhiterabbit hopping off)_**

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**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 12: Diverse Breeds

His head felt like a burning rod had prodded itself through his one ear, throbbing and burning through his brain only to exit out the other side. Such was the metaphor Snape conjured up for his headache. Blood loss could do that, he supposed. But it felt like something else as well; like his head was throbbing from relief. No, not his head: his thoughts. They beat up against his open black eyes in flurries of colour, reliving themselves for no other apparent reason than to taunt Snape about the past. Why was his head playing such a dirty trick on him?

He sat up slowly in his chair. Surely the girl would have known to give him the potions? There they were, green and red glistening bottles sitting patiently on the desk for him to greet them with his lips. And yet he resisted. He knew that the revitalisation potion would help with the headache. And the blood replenishment potion would definitely give him the pick-me-up he needed.

But he also knew that as soon as he took those potions, the magical feeling about him would leave. Something had happened after he had passed out.

There was a knock on his door. Getting groggily to his feet, Severus walked over to the door and opened it a crack – enough for an eye and some greasy hair to breech the gap. His one eye opened a bit at his visitor in surprise, but he opened the door properly to greet his large guest.

"Yes, Hagrid?"

"Professor Snape, g'mornin' firs' of all."

"To you too," Snape nodded his head curtly. Although the oaf was, well, an oaf, Snape had great respect for how much Hagrid endured. Both with his birth right and with the encounter that put a stopper to his magical abilities. Ah yes, once again things all came back to Tom Riddle. To Lord Voldemort. To He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Yes, there were many names for him. But You-Know-Who only had one true name in Severus' mind; evil.

He returned his thoughts to the man in front of him. Hagrid was wringing his hands silently, green pus oozing slowly out of large cuts along his fingers. Similar cuts adorned his face, his one eye covered in a large purple bruise.

"I, er, was wonderin' if you could, yeah know, maybe, er, help me with somethin'?" he stammered out, his hands wringing each other in a strangle hold.

"I am sure that the current Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher would be more than capable of helping with any sort of Dark Creatures who may have run amuck in your caravan park, Hagrid."

"Well tha's just the thing, you see. I can' ask Umbridge fer help – she'd try ta kill him!"

"Kill him? Kill who?"

"Firs' I just wanna know if you'll promise ta keep this to yerself? 'Cause Dumbledore said I should come ter you if I needed help, but I'd still feel, er, _safer_ if I had yer word?"

"If Dumbledore said you could come to me in secrecy, then I assure you that you can come to me in secrecy and that I will help. Dumbledore has that effect on people."

Hagrid puffed his chest out.

"He right well does!" Hagrid said with pride, but then deflated a bit while giving Snape a shifty glance.

"Hagrid, I don't have all day."

"Na I was jus' thinking tha' it's a bit chilly out there," he pointed upwards above ground.

"Give me two moments," Snape said before closing the door in Hagrid's face and turning back to his desk. There sat the two vile of potion, still patiently awaiting him. He glugged them down with a smirk at his own flavouring – mint and cherry – before summoning his cloak with his wand.

Closing the door behind him, Snape said, "Lead the way, Hagrid."

He could feel his head slowly regaining a regular pound similar to that of an average headache. With each easing beat of full blood through his veins, so Snape could think clearer. He scowled at his own physical weakness. The clear air cut through his thoughts and he looked out at the misty morning grounds. What time was it? Certainly not later than five or so? Not even a lone early-bird student was eating breakfast in the great hall. Snape felt slightly sick thinking of food, but breathed deeply as they strode across the grounds, their feet leaving dark impressions against the dew settled on the tall grass.

"I jus' need someone ta help a bit with magical things and the like, now that Dumbledore is gone," Hagrid said as soon as they were well out of hearing range of the castle entrance. "I mean he did the general things and what not but I jus' don' want him running away."  
"You know that Dumbledore is gone?" asked Snape, hiding his greed for knowledge.

"Yeah, I saw him on his way out," Hagrid nodded his large head, never taking his eyes off of the path that he was walking.

"Did he say why he was leaving?"

"Na, jus' somethin' abou' a hunch, tha's all he said."

"He said something similar to me," Snape said quietly, but Hagrid still heard.

"Well if he wants ta tell us abou' his missions and the like, then I'm sure he will. But Dumbledore is a very important person, an' I'm sure he deals with very important stuff, so it don't matter to me if he tells me stuff or not. He trusts me. Dumbledore is a great man."

But Snape couldn't help but wonder at that. Dumbledore was surely powerful, and surely great, but what type of greatness can be reached without the help of others. Why wasn't Dumbledore asking for _his_ help?

"Righ' we're jus' gonna pop into the Forest now."

Snape shook off his thoughts and turned to face the mass of green that stood before him. The Forbidden Forest. As a child, he had often gone wandering into its depths looking for particular potion ingredients or, most of the time, looking for solace from the silence as he hid from his childhood torturers. James Potter. And his Minions. Simply put, they were bullies. And Lily had fallen for them in the end. Fallen for the tricks and the jokes and the stupidity. She always loved to laugh...

Severus, serious as ever, strode purposefully after Hagrid who had (surprisingly despite his size,) disappeared behind the first large tree trunk.

The Forest was quiet, only the sound of scrunching leaves under their feet and the gentle swish of cloaks to accompany them as they trudged through the Forest's undergrowth.

"Are you going to tell me what I need to do, Hagrid?" asked Snape lazily as he jumped over an extended root with apparent boredom. Inside, though, his body was relishing the physical activity. Too long had he been shoved from one side of the war to the next, each time being beaten in a different sense; more than not physically on the Dark side, or emotionally of the Light. Light and Dark. Was that really what the war had come to? Then what was he? In a world of black and white, where did red belong? For surely he was red – tainted by blood and by passion. And, if anything, by love.

"Yeah," Harid's voice brought Snape back to the present. "Yeah I will tell ya...I'm jus' not so sure how you're gonna take it, is all."

"At this point, Hagrid, I don't think anything could surprise me."

"Allrigh' then. Well, ya know that I had a mission at the end of last school year, righ'?"

"Yes, you were sent to create an alliance with the giants. You failed."

"Yeah," Hagrid grumbled slightly, blood rushing to his face. "Anyway, so then I was supposed ter come straight back ter Hogwarts for the new year, but I was late."

"Am I about to find out," Snape asked silkily, "why you were absent from school for so long?"

"Yeah," Hagrid said again, giving a shifty glance at Snape. Snape's lip turned up slightly at the corners – Hagrid was acting just like a child who was having second thoughts about ratting out his friends. But Hagrid gained his composure, grunting loudly, before turning off the path and towards thicker brush.

"Righ' so I was late to school because of one simple reason; I was bringin' back my brother."

They veered off to the side again and Snape found himself in a sudden opening in the forest. He took a step backwards; the clearing was not, as it should have been, _clear_. It was inhabited by something large. Something monstrous. Something that Snape could not clearly identify as being a relative of Hagrid.

"Professor, meet my brother, Grawp."

Snape's face, momentarily covered in shock, reverted to a placid form. His mind was swirling inside; how many giants did Voldemort have? How much larger were they than this one? But surely having at least one giant opposing Voldemort was a start, right? Tactics shifted from one form to the next. Defences formed then fell then reformed.

"How tame is he?" asked Snape brusquely.

"Tame? He's not an animal! He's my brother!"

"Let me rephrase; how learned is he in the ways of the magical world?" Snape rolled his eyes at his own politically correctness.

"Well he's still afraid of magic. He likes water but he doesn't like fire and sparks and the like."

"And his English?"

"Gettin' there. The big problem is tha' he's bored an' he's tryin' to escape."

"Escape?"

"Yeah," Hagrid nodded his head. "He wants ter be near the lake. He saw it on the way into the grounds when we firs' came here. I asked Dumbledore ter put some barriers up so he can't run away or be seen, bu' he was in a rush so he said I had ter ask you."

"If he is bored, and he is not an animal, it would do good to let him have free reign."

"Bu' what if he hurts someone by accident? He don' mean no harm, but others don' see it like tha'!"

"Allright," sighed Snape. "I'll see what I can do, but against a Giant...there isn't much."

"But you'll do what you can?"

"The very best that I can, yes Hagrid." Hagrid beamed at Snape as if he was Father Christmas. "But I will be giving him more space to roam around in. He is a giant, Hagrid; he can't live in a cage."

"Anythin' you say, Professor!" Hagrid clapped his large saucer hands together and Snape, rolling up his sleeves, started to approach the giant (literally) figure on the ground.

Grawp, as Hagrid had called him, was sleeping with his face against the ground, and his large rear-end facing the sky. Hot breathe shot out of lopsided nostrils as the sleeping Grawp snored softly in and out. He was not a big giant, Snape mused, but he had strong arms and sturdy legs. Grawp reminded Snape of a rhinoceros, whereas other larger giants were elephants. But that was ok – even rhinos were deadly. Sizing the giant up, Snape decided on a radius of one hundred meters – that would be enough to allow the Giant to explore and learn about the Forest after living in the mountains for so long.

He pointed his wand upwards, and, muttering incantations quickly, did a swirl over his head. A green ward with the consistency of a bubble shot high up and stretched first outwards then upwards, falling slowly to settle on the quiet forest. The bubble then melted away into thin air.

"That should do it, Hagrid," Snape turned to Hagrid who's small eyes were watering with unshed tears of thanks. "What breed is he?" Snape pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at the giant.

"Grawp? Well my mum was a Fighter, so I know he's a cross between tha' at least."

"But he's small."

"Yeah I think me mum liked them smaller'n her. Look at me dad – he was tiny."

"I'd rather not go into that. But he definitely has Fighter blood in him?"

"Yeah, bu' you gotta remember tha' giants've got a lo' of breeds, since mos' of 'em were shoved together in the same place."

"Diverse breeds are common in all dying out species, Hagrid. Look at Wizards. We've bred ourselves into the smallest pool possible of purebloods."

"Pureblood smureblood," grumbled Hagrid. "Don' mean nothing now."

"It means very much now, Hagrid. Blood is a status. Blood is a reason to die or kill. Blood is a reason to live."

"I don' understand tha'," Hagrid shook his mane of a head. "Blood is blood. Everyone's got it an' everyone needs it."

"I wish that were the case," Snape shook his head sadly and looked to the floor. Still now he was fighting his half-blood status. Still now he was referred to as half a wizard. Would that ever change? Would there ever be a day where people were, just, people?

"I think I need to get back to the castle, Hagrid. Classes will be starting soon."

Hagrid dipped his head in gratitude and then let the man walk himself back to the castle.

As he followed their previous dew footprints which were now slowly melting away, Snape couldn't help but wonder about blood. How it is spilt so easily. How it is given away so unnecessarily. How blood is the very last thing that is connected to magic.

Blood was not power. Magic was power. And magic was not connected to blood, was it? Magic was something deeper than proteins floating around in veins. It was something propelled from within. Deeper. Yes. Deeper than blood. Deeper than a physical being. Magic was will and strength and hope and...love? No. The Dark Lord had no love for anything, and yet he was inches away from holding the Magical community in his hands. Was love magic? Dumbledore seemed to think so.

Love. It was not something good. It was something ultimately bad. More evil than anything else. It was what drove people to die. It was what forced them to fight. It was what made people's lives miserable.

Snape halted. No. Love was not what made people's lives miserable. Love was what had made _his_ life miserable.

But like Giants, surely love had different breeds too? Surely there was hope for those currently in love?

Then Snape realised it. It was something that he had not thought of before in Ginny's case. Ginny was just a child after all. But maybe...just maybe...Ginny hadn't just been tainted by evil down in the Chamber. Maybe she had been tainted by good too. By love.

A different breed of love. But love none the less.

With a sudden leap in his chest, Snape ran towards the castle and burst through the doors of the Great Hall. His eyes searched fruitlessly for any red heads at the red and gold table. There was Ron. There sat George and Fred, heads bent together with Lee Jordan. And. That was it. There weren't any other Weasleys at the table.

Walking silently up to the teacher's table, eyes still darting from the Gryffindore table the Great Hall's entrance, Snape couldn't help but wonder once again; what happened last night?

And, where was Ginny?

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**(A/N:_ Yet another chapter written and read! I must admit - writing Hagrid's speach was dreadfully difficult! Mainly because I had to imagine him saying everything in that accent of his. Living in South Africa, where the most I get is a really bad Afrikaans or Zulu tainted English, this was quite difficult! Anyway, let me know what you think! Wonderwhiterabbit hopping off!)_**


	13. Chapter 13  A Different Class

**(A/N: _So here's the next chapter. Please let me know what you think! Always love those comments! After next week I'm on holiday! But anyway, back to the story - going dark once again but don't worry: it's all building up to _something_. All writing does in the end. Yay! WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off)_**

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**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 13: A Different Class

Ginny was still missing. It was the end of the day and Snape's mind roamed from her red-headed absence, to the presence standing right in front of him.

Harry Potter, sweat dripping down his face, glared at Snape from dark green eyes. Once again Snape saw a hatred in them that reminded him all too clearly of how Lily had once felt for him. Hatred. Disgust. All he was was a worthless slug, crawling under feet for the sole purpose of trying to make them fall. Harry Potter...the more he saw into the boy's mind, the more he felt he had been wrong about the boy. And the more he felt that, the more he hated him. How dare Harry Potter prove him wrong?

It was childish. It was immature. But when he thought that he was wrong about Harry, he wondered if he was wrong about another Potter...whether James was as great as they all said...no!

No, he would not justify anything about James Potter based on his son. He was a worthless, godless son of Merlin's toadstools! He was nothing. He was no one.

He was dead.

And so was Lily.

And so would Harry be if he couldn't get Occlumens down to a T!

"You are not practising! You are not concentrating! You are a lazy, downright idiotic, insolent child! What do you think the Dark Lord is going to do? PLAY WITH YOU?"

Harry panted through grit teeth.

"You're not giving me a chance! It's 'one two three' one second, then 'one two' the next and then you don't even give warning! You just go for it!"

Snape growled.

"You think the Dark Lord will give you _time_, Potter? You think he will give you _warning_?"

"We're PRACTISING!" Harry burst out in anger.

"You practice the way you are going to behave in the real world!" snarled Snape. "If this is your performance in the classroom, then how do you think you will perform out there?" he shoved his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the outside castle grounds.

Harry glared hard at Snape, loathing frothing from his clenched body posture in waves of heat.

"Control, Potter. Your father didn't have it either. He would have been proud by the number of times you have snapped under pressure."

"WILL YOU STOP BEING JELOUS OF MY FATHER?"

Snape froze. His eyes blinked twice. His mind was in a slight shock; did Potter know? Did Harry Potter know about the relationship that Snape and James Potter had had? That James had managed to get the girl and that Snape had been left behind, friendless, loveless, powerless?

"I think this lesson is over," Snape whispered, his eyes still large circles but his face emotionless.

"Yes, sir," Harry roughly stuffed his wand into his robe pocket and strode to the door, but turned unexpectedly.

"Sir, was Ginny Weasley in your class today? Because I haven't seen her the whole day."

Once again, Snape blinked. What _did_ Potter know? Why was he asking Snape this when he could be asking any other of Ginny's teachers? And why was Harry noticing Ginny? Harry was head over heels with Cho Chang wasn't he? That was what Harry's mind had been telling him these past few lessons.

"I don't believe she was in my class. I did remove points if that is what you're ensuring?"

"No, no sir that's not what I was looking for at all. It's just...none of her other teachers have seen her either. Ron – her brother – was getting worried. So was Michael – her boyfriend."

Snape's nerves were on edge as he listened to Potter talk. He didn't hear any hint of recognition behind what the boy was actually saying. What the boy said was what he meant – there was no underlying meaning behind the words or behind the boy's body language.

But this meant that she really was gone. And Dumbledore still hadn't returned. And she hadn't told even her boyfriend where she was...

"Is that all?" Snape asked Harry.

"Yes, sir. Good night," and Harry closed the large dungeon door behind him with a loud creak.

Snape stared hard at that door. Ginny had stood there with her hair wet, a determined gleam in her eyes just before she had kissed him. Ginny had also stood right there, before that door, and proclaimed how she hated him and because of her hate she felt sorry for him. Then, she had also helped him through that door and into his private quarters to heal him. That was the last he had seen of her. Something had happened.

Snape thought back to his reasoning; Ginny had gone into the Chamber of Secrets in her first year, the whole year being played by a Dark Force, and had somehow been embedded with a form of Dark Magic. While she was there, she had also experienced Light Magic. Good Magic. A form of magic that many didn't even know of. Love. Harry Potter had been the one to go down and save the girl from the Chamber. Ronald Weasley had also been down there. And then the Dark Force was the third presence...Voldemort. The Dark Lord.

So the Dark Magic _must_ have come from the Dark Lord. And the Good Magic? If it _was_ Love, then surely it came from the brother? From Ronald? But what if it came unknowingly from Harry? What if he is in love with her, but doesn't know it even now? That would explain his subconscious worry of her whereabouts, wouldn't it?

He would have to find out more from Ginny. He needed her to need to know the truth. To need to find it. That would suite his original plan to use the Room of Requirement. And when he found out? What would he do then?

Snape uses all power. He plans how best to utilise it and then puts it into action. So what would he do once he found out how to use Ginny? He already knew how he would use the giant, Grawp. He would have to train it in combat, but that would be easy enough. The difficulty would be in getting the oaf, Hagrid, to allow him to do that. Dumbledore would agree, he was sure of it. He was still working on the centaurs, but it was becoming considerably difficult to reason with them what with Umbridge in the castle.

As if in answer to his dark thoughts, his arm burned along the dark skull and snake tattoo.

Now? He was being summoned _now_?

With a sigh that released some of his pent up frustration, Snape grabbed his cloak and headed for the door. He strode confidently through the doors of Hogwarts and quickly out of the grounds. Once a few meters outside the boar-guarded gates, he turned on the spot, his mind set on the Malfoy Manor as his destination.

But something happened in mid-squeeze. His body was hurtled off course, a force pulling and pushing him harder and harder towards an unknown place. At first instinct, Snape forced his mind harder in the direction he was planning on going, but then he recognised the burn in his arm and the unhidden presence of the Dark Lord around him. His destination was not the Malfoy Manor.

With a pop that brought breathe back into him, Snape opened his eyes to see a large garden. But this garden was slightly different to those that muggle's would expect. He was standing in the midst of the Garden of Freedom – where all magical plants could be found growing as they normally would in the wild, closely monitored by Magical Botanists.

"I did not expect to be here," Snape said to the apparently empty garden. A plant slithered its scaly vines across the ground to lick softly with pink tendrils at his feet. A large bumblebee-like bug trailing glitter flew down to rest on the vine. The vine reacted immediately and curled tightly around the bug, withdrawing its prey back towards the purple-flower-covered bush that it came from.

"I needed some place secluded to talk to you, Severus," there was a swish of a cloak and there stood Avery, his face still sporting long gashes from his recent interaction with the Dark Lord. Snape shivered inwardly at those markings. Avery had misinformed Voldemort – he had said that if they planted an imperius curse on one of the Unspeakables, then they would be able to get the item out of the Department of Mysteries. But that hadn't worked. Bode had worked hard to fight the imperius curse, but had still followed the orders that Lucius Malfoy had given him, and tried to steal the object. He had wound up in St Mungo's.

"This is where I got the Devil's Snare," Avery explained as he indicated the large garden. The garden needs more attention in other parts right now – a bulbous gas filled plant somehow caught fire."

"I can't imagine how that happened," Snape said dryly, his eyes lazily moving from the man to the wild garden around them, but his hand ready to reach for his wand any second. "Why are we here, Avery. I felt the Dark Lord lead me here. I expected to see him."

"N-no," Avery stuttered. "Th-the Dark Lord isn't here," he cleared his throat. "He does not want to see me for a while."

"Understandably," sneered Snape.

"You can't say that to me! You and I are the same! We're in the same class as far as the Dark Lord goes!"

"We are not!" snapped Snape. "I would never _dare_ give my preference the wrong information! That information could cause all sorts of danger for my allies!"

"You are right," Avery sighed. "You and I are not in the same class at all. You speak of our Lord as a...well, as more than just a Lord. As a friend, perhaps?"

"No, Avery," Snape shook his head, genuine sadness seeping through his tight face, "I don't believe I am the Dark Lord's friend."

"But you have good leverage with him, right?" Avery's tall body began to shake a bit, his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, beads of sweat trickled down his brow and fell off of his recently mended nose. Voldemort had obviously put a lot of effort into torturing Avery slowly, breaking bones – not only was his nose red from a fresh healing but so were his flexing fingers – and causing pain in a more humiliating way than just by using the Cruciatus curse. Avery could withstand that curse well by now; it had been used on him many times in the first war, and then again for the first time in many years when all the remaining capable death eaters gathered in that dark graveyard to welcome back the Dark Lord. Snape had not been there for that event, but Macnair had laughed about it later on, out of earshot of Voldemort.

"What is this about, Avery?" asked Snape, his hand reaching slowly into his pocket to rest lightly on his wand.

"I...Severus, I need your help," Avery said heavily, forcing the words out through a tight throat.

"How do you expect me to help? And with what?" Snape said slowly. Avery had apparently cracked under the pressure.

"So you will help me?" Avery asked excitedly, stepping forward, his hands finally uncurling from each other and reaching out to Severus.

"What do you expect me to _do_, Avery?" Snape stood dead still.

"Just to speak to him, that's all! Just to get my name back into hearing distance. That's all! It's not much!"

"Not much?" spat Snape. "A reputation with the Dark Lord is everything! If he knows that he can trust you, then he had better be able to trust you! If you break that trust...then you are worth _nothing_!"

"B-b-but Severus! You _know_ that I am worth more than the other death eaters! You _know_ how good I have been to the Dark Lord!"

"I know that you abandoned him. I know that you made a mistake. I know that you were scared, and that is the only reason why you have returned to him. As far as the downright trodden are concerned, you are truly in a class of your own," Avery, his strength finally giving in, fell to the ground and looked up at Severus from his knees.

"So I have no hope, then? No chance at all..." he breathed out, his mind recognising his words as he said them.

"Hope? Probably not. But chance...that could be rearranged. Perhaps you could be moved from information to action – you have a good wand arm on you. Speak to Malfoy and ask him to move you from your current position. You could probably build a different name for yourself in that manner."

A light flickered in Avery's eyes.

"You're right!" he said eventually. "Thank you, Severus! The Dark Lord should be happy to have someone as loyal as you on his side!"

Avery got to his feet, a plan forming in his mind as a crooked smile spread across his face. He stepped on a large stone and turned once more to Severus.

"Thank you," he said again before twisting on the spot and vanishing in thin air.

Severus thought that that was the last of it and he proceeded to the same stone, intending to sleep well tonight. But his assumption was wrong.

With a small pop, another figure appeared on the stone before him, his wand already out and scanning the area.

"All clear?" asked the man, slowly removing his cloak.

"Yes, Rookwood," Snape shut his eyes tight and rubbed his temples as his head gave an unhappy throb; tonight would be a long one it seemed. "What are you doing here?"

"The Dark Lord just sent me. You have spoken to Avery?" Rookwood ignored Snape's presence and walked around the clearing in the wild garden, putting up defensive charms and repellent wards. Snape had already felt the unmistakable aura of magic surrounding him – probably precautions put up already by Avery before he had arrived – so he thought it was a bit of a waste of time. Although this did give Rookwood an excuse not to look at Snape. Snape, however, was forced to watch Rookwood's progress as he walked in a large circle.

"Yes. I spoke to him. The Dark Lord is still not happy with him, I take it?"

"No," Rookwood wasn't one for small talk. "He and I were gathering information together about the Item. Once again, Avery failed to collect the right data. Luckily I was there to rectify his mistake."

"Yes," drawled Snape. "Luckily."

"The Dark Lord, seeing how useless Avery is, has given me a new partner. You."

"Me? But how can I help in terms of the Department? You were the one who worked there once."

"Yes, I did work in the Department of Mysteries. But they may have changed things since last I was there. I know that the...er..._funcionalities_, shall we say, of the department may have changed however. And I'm not as good as you are in terms of _problem solving_," finally Rookwood finished his large circular walk and turned to face Snape, his wand held lazily in his hand. Snape frowned at that.

"Whose wand is that?" he asked. "Because the Dark Lord gave me all eleven wands that belong to the death eaters who we freed from Azkaban."

"Oh, so it's you who has my wand," Rookwood raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise. "I stole this one off of some bloke at a bar. Guy was too drunk to even notice me take it out of his hand. It works alright, but not like my wand. Feels...heavy, you know?"

"No, I don't know," Snape said without emotion. He would have to work with Rookwood? To figure out what? But despite the growing bile in his throat at the thought of working with Rookwood, there was something else that Snape was feeling...Something that really made him excited.

You see, Snape didn't know what the Item in the Department of Mysteries was. He knew that there was an Item in there somewhere, and he knew that the Order was trying desperately to keep the Dark Lord from attaining it, but he didn't know what it was. The Dark Lord hadn't told him, and as such, neither had Dumbledore. Snape was finally going to be let out of the dark.

Did this mean that the Dark Lord trusted him more than Dumbledore did?

"You ever gonna give me back my wand?" asked Rookwood, fingering his stolen wand distastefully.

"Only when the Dark Lord allows me to. Bellatrix is also still waiting."

"Hmm," Rookwood grunted. "Well then, tomorrow night we meet here again, come prepared with some Polyjuice Potion, alright? We've got a one hour gap tomorrow night when we can sneak into the Department and map out the way to the Item. But listen, you gotta remember _everything_. Every little detail. The Dark Lord said that only you could do it and that it was _very_ important."

"As if I don't remember everything," Snape said, again resuming his bored tone.

"Well, just don't," Rookwood stepped back onto the stone, and with a nod at Snape, disapparated.

So, thought Snape as he finally stepped onto the stone, Avery was begging him for help. Rookwood was going to get his help. The Dark Lord expected him to do things that others couldn't. And Snape was feeling excited about something the Dark Lord had asked him to do.

He turned and disapparated, appearing once more outside the Hogwart's gates. Walking wearily through them, Severus wondered about the label that he had been given. The class that he had been put into. There were different classes in the wizarding world, that was unquestionable. There was "pure blood" and "mud blood" and "mixed breed" and "half blood." There was also "blood traitor". But what about the other classes that had appeared in the wizarding community? "Ally", "friend", and "enemy". And then there was him. "Spy".

Was he really a good person?

As if in answer to his thoughts, he felt his pocket vibrate.

Snape had not been thinking about Ginny Weasley, but now, his hand dipped into his pocket and withdrew the vibrating writing implement. He placed it instantly on his arm and watched as it wrote out two words that made his heart disagree on whether to pump faster or to stop all together.

"_I'm sorry_"

At the same time, a silver phoenix erupted in the air, Dumbledore's voice ringing out in front of the startled Severus.

"Welcome back," the shining patronus announced before continuing, "My office, if you please Severus. Now."

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**(A/N: _So there it is! Once more, your beautiful comments are awesome and appreciated and much wanted! WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off)_**


	14. Chapter 14  Mind Change

**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 14: Mind Change

It was with heavy feet that Severus reached the gargoyles that guard the entrance to the Headmaster's office.

He sighed as he said the password, "Cherry Nougat."

"At least you can move further than a step," sniggered the one gargoyle as it leapt aside to allow Severus through.

Severus grunted in amusement, but petted the gargoyle's head nonetheless as he stepped onto the winding staircase.

Just as he was settling into a state of semi-control, however, the staircase stopped moving. Severus knew what that meant; someone was coming down the stairs as he was going up them. He stood rigid as he waited for the unannounced person to start walking down the bend and into his sight, an emotionless mask plastered on his face.

As Ginny Weasley took the step needed to put her two stairs out of Severus reach, but well within sight, she froze.

He stared up at her, his black eyes taking her presence in with two short glances up and down; her hair was tousled and twigs stuck out of it in odd directions; her clothes were ripped; she had a long scratch along her arm, the blood oozing slowly out making it look longer than it was; and her eyes were dimmed, no longer with the shine that he knew they normally held. It was that, above all, that alerted Severus – something in the girl was very very wrong.

"Ah, Severus," Albus Dumbledore appeared on the step above Ginny. He placed a long fingered hand on Ginny's shoulder. "I am going to take Miss Weasley to the Hospital Wing. Wait for me."

Severus merely nodded and let Dumbledore and Ginny Weasley pass. Once the pair stepped off of the final stair, Severus let the staircase move him upwards to the Headmaster's Office. He didn't hesitate at the door but opened it with sure hands and stepped through. Fawkes turned his head towards Snape, looking at him through one beady eye.

"Yes, Bird, I am in a bad mood," growled Snape.

Fawkes answered with a soft coo. Severus felt his muscles relax involuntarily as the sound swept around him. His lip lifted in a sneer as he reclenched his arms.

"Not going to work this time!" he hurrumffed into the leather-backed chair, purposefully holding himself down hard. Fawkes, his black intelligent gaze shifting to the other eye, merely ruffled his feathers and hopped from his perch onto Snape's leg.

"You are too much like your Griffindore counterpart," grumbled Snape as he begrudgingly lifted a finger and stroked the feathered neck of the phoenix. More soft coos ensued and Snape found the icy layer that he coated over his mind thawing out slowly.

Every time. Every single time he went to do the Dark Lord's bidding, Snape put up his defences. Either burning anger, its origin untraceable under the sheer heat of it. Or a cold indifference, placing everyone and everything below him. Tonight he had shrouded himself in ice as he looked down at both Rookwood and Avery. The idiots. The absolute morons. The complete _fools_!

Fawkes flapped off of Snape's lap as he suddenly brought his hand down angrily on the side of the chair. Sending out indignant clucks at him, Fawkes landed along one of the many shelves in the office, his claws digging into the wood as he held himself in a dignified diagonal stance along the shelf. Their eyes glared black to black.

Knowing he would have to make amends to the bird, Snape huffed out of the chair and extended his arm out. Fawkes shuffled further along the shelf out of the Potion Master's reach.

Eyes not leaving the bird, Snape followed its course. It fluttered further out of his reach once more. Fighting the urge to roll his eyes or to huff in exasperation, he stepped once again after the bird. Fawkes, with a glint in his eye that Severus could not place, flew from the shelf to the other side of the room where he settled comfortably on his perch. Fawkes gave a chirp of victory. Snape, his eyes still on the shelf saw why; Fawkes had lead him to the Sorting Hat.

"_You going to put me on_?" the rip in the hat said to him.

Knowing how crazy he must be to have been tricked by a bird and now pressurised by a hat, Severus placed the hat gently over his oily hair.

"_You put me on, therefore I've won"_

Severus snarled, "Yes, yes, you're a brilliant piece of brainless patched stitch-work."

"_You think you need me to grow, so what do you want to know?_"

"Why you always talk in rhyme is one thing I want to know," growled Severus and shook his head. The only end he gained was to let the hat drop further down over his head.

"_Remembering the first time where I spoke to you in rhyme?_" enquired the hat with a silky smile.

"Difficult to forget the first time. You fell all the way down to my eyes. At least I know I've grown in that sense."

"_My doe-hearted friend, your mind has gone around the bend._"

"I give that a four out of ten," Snape smirked

"_I always loved your wit, and the truth hidden under it_."

"I don't know how much truth there is in sarcasm. I don't think I know much at all."

"_Turn to your past, or won't your heart last_?"

"The past has nothing to do with anything! Ginevra Weasley is my problem! She obviously tried to run away, probably through the Forbidden Forest from her appearance. What am I supposed to do with her? I thought that I could teach her Occlumensy to separate herself from her past, but how can I help her do that when even I cannot?"

The hat took a deep breath, Severus feeling it rise and fall softly on his head. He clenched his eyes, knowing that the Hat had a song for him.

And so began the Sorting Hat's song to Severus:

"_The secrets locked in your head,_

_are hidden but never dead_

_Oh soulless snake, why look to me_

_when already you have your precious key?_

_I am but a torn old hat,_

_what difference do I know about this or that?_

_I read your thoughts and heart's desires_

_but the future no cup, nore book, nor hat can transpire._

_Leave the reading to me – of that I am sure_

_but your worries and cares – only you know the cure._"

The hat fell silent and, his cue unspoken but felt, Severus lifted it off of his head and placed it back on the shelf. If anything, the Hat had given him much to think of. He strode quickly around to Fawkes and, at the bird's extended neck, stroked his feathered head.

"I see you have more fun with Fawkes these days than with me."

Snape turned and nodded his head in greeting to the Headmaster.

"I am sorry I took so long in returning to Hogwarts."

"I am sorry too. The school can barely function without you."

"Don't be so sure of yourself, Severus. There is much the school can do without me. And much that it must do without me in the future."

"And me? How much longer is my role in this school?"

"I do not know. I can merely guess."

"Not saying much," scoffed Snape, "considering most of your guesses are always right."

Dumbledore sighed and sunk into his chair behind his desk. Snape settled into the one opposite him.

"I wish it weren't so," said Dumbledore eventually. Looking carefully at Snape, Dumbledore asked, "Close your mind Severus; this must not get back to Voldemort."

Snape barely had time to put up his defences as Dumbledore pulled out of his pocket a torn book, its centre blackened with a large hole.

"That is..." Snape trailed, waiting for Dumbledore to fill in the gap.

"An old diary that once belonged to Tom Marvolo Riddle. Given to Ginevra Weasley five years ago before her first year. Destroyed by Harry Potter a year later in the Chamber of Secrets."

"_This_ is the book that you were referring to?"

"Yes. And no – I did find a particularly fascinating book on Five-Fingered Fungi that was particularly interesting. I couldn't resist the urge to buy it."

Shrugging the Headmaster's ditsy comment off, Snape concentrated on the book. That was what changed Ginny. That was what gave her this sudden power.

"How did the book work?"

Dumbledore, caught slightly off guard by the question, let his surprise show with a twinkle of large eyes over his half-moon spectacles.

"In terms of what?"

"When the girl found it," snapped Snape. "What did it do to her?"

"It held memories that possessed her as she poured more of herself into the book," Dumbledore's voice was steely as he spoke.

"Possessed? So it poured its magic into her as she poured hers into it?"

"Something like that."

"And now that experience has engraved itself into her magical ability..." Severus was not asking. He was contemplating his own thoughts aloud. In his sudden vulnerable state of mind, his emotions showed clearly on his face.

"My, my, Severus. You do not have feelings for the girl, do you?"

"Feelings?" spat Snape just as suddenly as the question was asked.

"Yes, Severus. Also known as emotions or a tugging of the heart."

"There is no heart involved. Only calculated involvement."

Dumbledore chuckled.

"If that is what you want to call it, then so be it. But I warn you – that is not the definition she would choose for herself."

"Where did you find her?" asked Snape, rueing the answer.

"I did not. Firenze felt a disturbance in the stars above the forest and followed their alignment, only to find the girl in an enclosure not far from the Centaur's herd. He risked his life once more among his people and brought her to safety just as I reentered the castle."

Snape sat in silence, contemplating this news. She had tried to run away. From who? For what?

"From what I gathered," said Dumbledore, the twinkle in his eyes renewed as he perched his bearded chin on interlinked fingers and surveyed the man before him as he would any other student, "she was running away after some form of encounter with you."

"With me?" So he was right! She had run away after he had fainted.

"You aren't trying to scare my students to death again, are you Severus?"

Snape scowled.

"If anything, the girl scares _me_! The last I saw of her was the night before last! She was _waiting_ for me to get back from my summons from the Dark Lord. I didn't realise my wounds were so severe. She helped me to my rooms. I fainted. That was it! I did no more and no less than that! I don't even know how she knew that I would be there!"

"Ah, that would be me. I gave her instructions to wait for you."

"Y-y-you?" spluttered Snape, his anger rising like the incoming of the tide.

"Oh don't look so surprised, Severus. I know that you always get hurt and you never ask for help. So," Dumbledore shrugged, "I asked for you."

"You asked a TEENAGE GIRL TO HELP ME?" the tide had come in with the fierceness of a tsunami crashing against the shore. Severus felt his calm exterior crack. He was on his feet without knowing how he had gotten there. He could feel anger radiating off of him in sweeps of power. He knew all that, and yet he could not force himself to control his actions. "FEEL FREE TO PLAY GAMES WITH ME, DUBLEDORE, BUT THE GIRL! DON'T! JUST...just don't..." he sagged back into his chair, his shoulders slumping down, his bedraggled hair falling in shadows around his bent head.

"She wants to help," said Dumbledore after a while.

"Well she can't."

"Why not?"

"She shouldn't."

"Says who?"

"She mustn't."

"But she will."

Snape looked up tiredly at Dumbledore.

"You think she will? You think there is no way that I can chase her away from the stupid path she has decided to walk?"

"I think she will. I think that there is no way that you can chase her away. I think that the path she has decided to walk is treacherous, but highly noble."

"What of the means of this path?"

"Do what you must. You know that she will do the same."

"It is not a simple mind change. It goes deeper than that. She wants something that I cannot give. I have not had it for years."

"Hearts mend."

"When they are broken, not when they're lost."

"Then maybe she can find yours. Or if not, make for you a new one."

Snape laughed.

"What is the use of a spy with a heart?"

"What is the use of a soul without a heart?"

"Who says I have a soul."

Dumbledore looked hard at Snape, his eyes forcing the man to want to both fidget incessantly and to sit stock still, a frozen masterpiece of human flesh and blood.

"I say you have a soul. Your actions – going to face Tom every single time he calls, saving those who you can, applying mercy to those who you can't – those actions tell me that you have a soul. And if you ever feel any doubt as to whether you have a soul, look but into yourself and call forth the light of happiness and love; your patronus will remind you of who you are."

Just as seriously, Snape replied, "My patronus reminds me of why I fight. It reminds me of her. It has nothing to do with me."

"Then maybe it is time that you changed your mind about yourself. Learn to love again, Severus."

"Not too long ago you were asking me to make friends. Now you are asking me to love. On top of my other duties, don't you think you are asking me too much? Can't you just leave me to wallow in my own selfpity and be on with it. We both know that I will not live past this war. There is no place for me within the future. A spy has no purpose when there is no reason to spy."

"Have you grown so attached to your role in this war, that it has become the very essence that is you? Or can't you remove yourself from your job any more?"

"I don't understand," and truly, Severus didn't. Once again, Dumbledore was talking in a riddle that he didn't know the answer to.

"I am Hogwart's Headmaster. I am also Albus Dumbledore. The one role is different from the other. The one role trumps the other. You are Severus Snape. You are also Spy. Are the roles the same, Severus? Or do they differ?"

"I am Spy. Severus Snape is Spy. Whether you want to call me the one or the other, it makes no difference. There is no way to detach me from what I am, nor who I am. You can hide the past, but it will never die. I have no place in the future."

"You are prepared to die?"

"Always."

"That is something I wish Ginevra will never hear from you."

"I would rather tell her now than have her misunderstand my death."

"Yes. It would be good for her to know that it is not murder. But sacrifice."

They elapsed into silence, the portraits on the walls snoring too loudly for them to be genuine.

"Rookwood has asked for my help. The Dark Lord has a plan for the item in the Department of Mysteries."

"You consented, I take it?" asked Dumbledore, leaning back in his chair and letting his head rest so that he was facing the roof instead of the man that had just proclaimed his own death.

"I had no choice. Avery spoke to me too. He believes the Dark Lord will listen to my pleas for his forgiveness..."

"Will he?"

"Many believe so. I do not know. The Dark Lord...he becomes more and more inhuman as time wears on. It is almost like he is only part human, part something else."

"You may be right," Severus thought that he saw a worried frown line the wrinkles in Dumbledore's face, but a blink later and they were hidden by a ditsy old-man smile. "Is that all that you have to report?" he looked back down at Snape.

"Yes," Snape nodded, then paused before saying, "So what of the girl?"

Dumbledore smiled widely.

"Let your _calculated involvement_ lead the way," then he waved his hand in an obvious dismissal.

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**(A/N: _Right so I really need inspiration. I know where I wanna go with this story - the finish is written first as is my writing pattern - but the middle...it's always a bit of a problem. So thoughts, comments, or anything of the sort are needed and appreciated. I think that I'm in the middle of a "calculated involement" drain; that might explain it. WonderWhiteRabbit droopily dragging her feet as she hops off)_**


	15. Chapter 15  Memory Constancy

**(A/N: _Wow! The Royal Wedding! Amazing! Oh, and to add to the amazingness of it, I have here my LONGEST chapter ever *applause for WonderWhiteRabbit* Let me know what you think! WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off.)_**

* * *

Chapter 15: Memory Constancy

Snape's breath rasped in his throat as he drew in air, gobbling up its purity in the hopes that it would cleanse him of his nightmare. He sat in bed, his sheets and nightclothes tangled into a dark sweating knot that rendered the one undistinguishable from the other. He let his body shiver uncontrollably. He let his hands clasp his arms with painful drags of nail through skin. He let his mind consume him as the nightmare played out, despite his waking gaze.

It had been years ago since that last occurrence...but the muggle girl, only just made aware of her magical abilities, looked at him with sober eyes knowing that the magic ability that she had been gifted with had also gifted her with the promise of death. The Dark Lord had used that tactic to much horror; Voldemort would pick out muggle borns or half-bloods and send out death eaters to kill them before they could even realise the world that is _magic_. He would stop their dreams before they had even begun. It had worked for some time; no new muggle borns attended Hogwarts for a full year before the Order had figured out a way of safe passage for the many that awaited entrance to the school.

Severus, fresh out of school himself, had been let loose like a raving dog from its chain and set upon the girl's household. That was the night he had found out...he didn't want to think about it.

He wouldn't think about it.

He would not allow himself to think about it!

But the memory pressed itself further against his mind and Severus had never learnt how to block himself from himself: that was the night that he had found out that Lily was pregnant with James Potter's son. He hadn't cared that he was reckless and angry. He hadn't cared that he left his sign upon every surface within the muggle girl's house. He hadn't cared that his whole body was taken over by the darkness that engulfed him and ensued through his magic and his wand to wreck havoc upon the house. All that had been left had been the sniffling girl, sitting in a corner.

He had wondered many a time afterwards, when his mind had cleared and the truth of his actions had disintegrated the red burning fortress that divided him from his emotions, what house would the girl have been in?

She had stuck her chin up at him as the house, burning with the physical attributes of his anger, fell about her. She had been crying, but she looked to him with dry eyes, the blueness of youth still prevailing in their irises.

"Rise to death! Know that _this_ is what magic is!" he had commanded her.

She had stood, whether out of fear of his further wrath or pride of her own, he never waited to find out. Instead, her movements only made him angrier and with an evil green flash that left him panting, the girl was dead.

He supposed now she would have been in Gryffindor. But even a good Slytherin knew when the game was up.

Blue eyes still stared at him through his open eyelids, but the shivers were receding. He could feel the scratches he had made along his arms slowly protest with drops of blood. Blood. That was all anything was ever about. Something so uncontrollable as _blood_! He roared, his hands flying to his head and tugging at his hair in a state of absolute and complete helplessness.

Helpless. Inadequate. Useless.

But he wouldn't be like that for long. No. He may not be able to change the way Potter looked at him. Nor could he change how good Potter was at Occlumency unless the boy tried. But there was someone who he could help.

Ginny Weasley. She saw more in him that anyone had since Dumbledore realised his emotional state so many years ago...when he pleaded for Dumbledore's help to stop Voldemort from killing Lily...and even then Dumbledore had been ruthless, smashing his heart again and again until not even the bedraggled flesh left over from his childhood heartache was visible beneath the minced meat.

Now he had someone who was soft. Who was pulling that minced flesh into a tube of some semblance of shape. Who was pulling and pushing him together. Who was allowing him to feel again. For surely he was allowed to feel more than just the anguish of his own heart? Surely he could not be held liable for _all_ the pain in the past.

No, he would not think that he was innocent. He was guilty. And he was paying dearly for all the wrong that he had done. But what about the wrong that the world had done to him? He had not asked the Sorting Hat, so many years ago, to put him in Slytherin. The Hat had seen his feelings for Lily, had seen his need and desire to be with her, but he had also seen others before him, not just Potter and Black but others before their time too, and known that their minds had already conceived a perception about him. And the hat had known...yes, there was no doubt in Severus' mind that the hat had known...that Severus would need the cunning that Slytherin would teach him, that Severus would need the strength gained from enmity and careful regard, and that Severus would need to overcome those things in order to earn his rightful place in Gryffindor beside his beloved Lily.

But he had earned his place much too late.

Severus felt himself falling back into the blackness of despair. He was not one for depression, but when it overtook him, there was no stopping its force.

Except...what was that buzzing sound?

Snapping his eyes open, Snape stared at the pocket of his robes that hung ungainly over his chair. It was moving ever so slightly with each buzzing sound. It took his mind a second to return to reality, the blue eyes of the long dead muggle girl fading fast into memory as he snapped to his feat and dug out the vibrating quill from his pocket.

He dropped to his knees, not bothering with the sharp pain against his cold skin, and pointed the quill carefully on the stone floor.

"_I like fluffy things?_" the quill wrote out. He stared as the words melted into the stone. She was unsure of herself – otherwise why the question mark? And she was scared – otherwise why the slant in her normally straight writing?

Steadying his own hand against the shivers running down his arm, he wrote back: "_...As long as they're pink._"

Then he stood up and flourished his wand, his icecold nightclothes vanishing from his skin. For a few seconds he stood in his secret room, baring to the world his pale skin pulled tightly around muscle and bone, the whiter scars standing out stark in the flickers of candlelight in the room, his ribs – each one clear as if he were a skeleton – rising and falling in the cool air, his toes clenching and unclenching in time with his fingers as he slowly made his body relax. And then, when his body was just a limp puppet standing as though hung from strings, he let his mind go too...and he felt _everything_. He forced all his walls down, not letting a single one stay, not hiding a thing from himself. He felt the love he had for Lily. He felt the betrayal he felt in himself. He felt the anger and hurt and pain. He felt the hunger for revenge and the need for forgiveness. He felt unequivocal sadness.

And then he felt hope. In Dumbledore. In Harry. In Ginny. And then, forcefully, for himself.

With another flourish of his wand, he had robed himself and the armour was back up over his mind, each fortress's walls strengthened by age-old mortar and chiselled rock.

Without a backward glance, Snape left the room and headed for the seventh floor where he knew Ginny would be waiting for him.

...

Ginny didn't know what to do. She had tossed and turned in her bed, but no other remedy came to mind. It had been how long? A week? Two weeks? And she still had not explained. Not apologised properly. For her actions. For what she had done. For what she had...dare she think it...stolen.

For surely she had stolen Snape's abilities? Why else had she not been able to feel the absolute bliss of nothingness when she had kissed her professor while he had been passed out? And then she felt butterflies again in her stomach, things that she shooed away impatiently; butterflies had no right to flutter benignly around when really she felt like she needed dragons instead. Now she stood outside the blank wall on the seventh floor, trying to come up with her very unstructured plan.

But she had no time to think, nor react as a hand came swiftly up to her mouth, smothering her sudden need to cry. But the cry never issued further than an intake of breath. For there it was. Through that single touch of five tough fingers along her mouth, she felt it again.

The bliss that was nothingness.

The bliss that was the touch of Severus Snape.

...

"Shhh!" shushed Severus insistently, although his reprimand was slightly useless as the girl had already kept quiet the moment he touched her. He felt the aura about her disappear, quieted like her voice by his touch. That aura...he would have to speak to her about magic control, but not now.

He dragged her unresisting legs into an alcove in the wall behind a suite of armour just before footsteps echoed softly against the walls, accompanied by soft whispers.

"Three of hearts, _again_!" Proffessor Trelawney, her mouth muffled by long wispy scarves, was talking to herself as she sorted through a pack of cards with bent up corners, their constant use obvious. "It can only mean three of three. Obviously The Chosen One and his two companions. Another must be Dumbledore and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and then an unknown companion. And then...another three? Who will fulfil the triangle and choose the direction of top and end?" she reshuffled the cards, still mumbling to herself, as she stepped around the corner.

Severus knew better than to believe the ramblings of the woman – not while she was in that state at least. If she were really foretelling the future, the Seer within would take over and everyone would lose their impression of her as the dim-witted, tea-leaves muddled woman that she is now.

But Ginny didn't know that. She didn't know that it was Trelawney who Snape had overheard so many years ago in the Hogs Head. She didn't know that it was Snape who had taken the information that he had heard to the Dark Lord. She didn't know that it was because of this information that Lily and James Potter had died. She didn't know that it was his fault that Harry Potter was who he was because of him. No, not completely because of him, but partially at least.

Slowly he lowered his hand. He felt the girl against his chest shiver. So she was finally scared of his touch, was she?

But then she turned around, her eyes once more with that shine in them. It was a shine of relief. A shine of discovery.

"I didn't steal it from you!" she blurted suddenly.

He didn't know what she was talking about. Steal it? Steal what? He let his face show a semblance of the confusion he felt on the inside, hoping that she would recognise it and answer the unspoken question.

She did see his confusion, but she chose not to speak there, in the alcove hidden only by the suit of armour. Instead she stepped back into the corridor and glared at him. He took his queue and closed his eyes, a slight growl showing his displeasure. But then he felt a tugging at his sleeve and he opened his eyes to see her pulling him towards the wall which now had a large door in its midst. He noticed that she didn't touch his skin, her hand curling around his thin wrist where the material of his robe draped over it.

She stepped through the door and Severus was pleased to see the room had created the Window Watching Room that he was most familiar with, its ten different walls portraying a different scene through the windows.

Finally letting go of his wrist, Ginny stepped to an ornate two-seater bench that overlooked one of the larger windows. Severus, his face impassive against the turmoil burning inside him, took the remaining seat next to her.

His body still smelt of her, where he had pushed her against him in the alcove. He had a fine red hair stuck in the crook of his arm, its dazzling colour standing stark against the black of his robe. And his hand tingled where he had touched her skin. Why was it feeling like that? Was it something in him making it like that? Or was it something from her side?

"Sir," Ginny whispered eventually. He looked to her. Her head was bowed, but he could still make out a flush creeping up along her neck.

"Miss Weasley?" enquired Snape, his voice dulled from its normal growl.

"There is something you need to see," and she looked to the window in front of them.

Severus could see that this was the Gryffindor common room, clearly distinguishable by its red and gold hangings. He could also tell that this was one of the girl's rooms. He was surprised that the castle would allow him to see into those rooms – normally the castle, its actions set by the old magic that made it, would not allow males into the female dorms. He supposed because it was given by Ginny's permission, the Castle would show him this small insight into the girl's dorms.

There was Ginny, in her four-poster bed, tossing and turning while the rest of her schoolmates slept peacefully. Eventually abandoning the thought of sleep, she pulled herself out of bed and slipped on her daywear that had been piled in a heap by her feet. Once clothed she went down to the common room, not surprised to see her twin brothers still up and whispering insistently to each other in a corner. She took a seat by the fire and watched it for some time. The flames seemed to be making her sleepy because she was not aware when, without warning, a letter shot out of the fireplace.

The letter, a piece of parchment folded three times, zoomed out of the fireplace and landed delicately on Ginny's unsuspecting lap. She had managed to control the yelp she had wanted to issue, but her eyes were still large in surprise.

Turning the letter over, she saw a neat scrawl etched into the paper, naming "Ginny Weasley" the recipient of the letter. She opened it slowly and then stared for a moment at the words written there. Snape could not see what it said – obviously the Room thought that he did not Need to see it, or maybe it was Ginny who didn't want him to.

Either way, the words had a great effect on the sitting Ginny. She jumped to her feet and, time too much of the essence, she summoned a cloak from upstairs, it trailing after her in the air as she ran out of the common room and into the dark corridors of Hogwarts. As the portrait of the Fat Lady swung shut, she grabbed the cloak that whipped past the closing. She put it on and then ran for a secret passageway. Snape watched as she ran through the corridors on silent feet, unhindered by stalking ghost, spying painting or prowling teacher. She reached the stairs leading to the main entrance, her chest rising and falling and her eyes bright with her plight through the castle. Snape saw that the staircase was lined on either side by small lighted fairies. With recognition, Snape realised that this was the night that Snape had found Ginny on the stairs of Hogwarts, when he had returned with the large knock on the back of his head and blood oozing slowly down his neck.

He turned slightly in his seat to see the girl out of the corner of his eye. She wanted him to see this moment in time. She wanted him to understand her actions. She wanted him to, what? Tell her it was ok? That she had reacted bravely despite the circumstances? That she was a good Gryffindor, true to its title? He would not do any of that. She had been stupid and arrogant. She had reacted _exactly_ like a Gryffindor and he wouldn't be surprised if it eventually killed her. She needed to learn how to _think_ before jumping straight into action.

Perhaps she knew this already though, since as he watched her in both the Room of Requirement and through the window that the Room provided, he saw the one pacing insistently and the other scowling at her actions. She knew then that she had acted wrong. That she had made a mistake. And now, through watching the event again, she wished she could change the silly little girl before her.

Snape was good at reading people. Gryffindors especially; their thoughts played as clearly upon their faces as if Ginny were another window that he could look through. But there was something else under her scowl that she gave to herself. It took him another second to see it; embarrassment. She was embarrassed by her actions and showing them to Snape was taking all the courage she had. He turned back to the window as he saw movement; he had arrived through the front doors.

He saw for the first time, Ginny's reaction when she had placed eyes upon him. It was an unmistakable look of relief, filled with a longing look of hope. As he watched himself walk up the stairs and lose his temper at the girl, he couldn't help but feel a little heat around his own collar; he hadn't reacted at all like a grown up. Then again, she had goaded him.

"_FOR GOD'S SAKE, SEVERUS – YOU'RE BLOODY WELL BLEEDING_!" Ginny's voice rang through the window. Snape wondered if it was the use of his first name that had stopped him or if it was the sheer tone of voice she had used with him. It was a desperate tone. A longing tone. He watched as the fairies along the staircase fell silent, each one tilting their heads to see the couple on the staircase better.

He looked to the current Ginny in the Room, her lips were pulled into a tight line and she was looking at him in a very obvious way.

"You deserved to be yelled at, Sir," she said through those tight lips. Severus found he couldn't quite look away from them.

"We all need something to snap us out of it in the end," he consented with a small nod of his head. He still stared at Ginny. She didn't look away. The window carried on its projections despite no longer having the full attention of its audience.

"Yes, Sir," she agreed. "Finding that something...that is always the difficult part."

"I disagree. Once you have found that something...it is what you do with that found knowledge that changes the course of one's path."

Ginny stared at him hard, her eyes shimmering in the starlit roof of the Room. He was enthralled by her. Whether it was the unknown aura that surrounded her and affected him more than others, or if it was the likeness that she held with Lily, or if it was the promise of care that showed through those shining eye...Severus could only guess at.

There was a noise from the window; Ginny had fallen over backwards, a chair lay sprawled on its side, the sound echoing in the room. He watched as Ginny ran from the room, the two potions on the table left untouched. She ran out of the dungeons and into the entrance hall. Without a second thought, she ran into the hall and towards a board that lined the hall's back wall. Seemingly running straight through a solid wall, Ginny disappeared behind the board, reappearing in a short tunnel that then lead her outside into the grounds. She ran, her legs flying through the air, feet touching down with hard thuds against the cold ground only to propel her forwards faster and faster. She hurtled through tall grass, past the greenhouses, past Hagrid's hut, ignoring the howls from Fang as the big dog watched her disappear into the Forbidden Forest.

The window went blank.

"What did you do?" he asked eventually.

"I ran away. Or, tried to rather. I was...quite unsuccessful. All that I managed to do was get lost. And then I was really angry with myself. Eventually I found myself in a clearing of some kind. There were centaurs all around me. Two of them got into a fight about my future. One wanted to take me back to the castle. Another wanted to punish me for coming into their territory. Eventually they agreed that I was too young to be punished and I was lead by a Palamino out of the Forest."

"Why did you do it?"

"You didn't see? What I did to you?"

Yes, he had seen. She had kissed him. She had forced her lips upon him. But whatever she had been expecting that night when she had kissed him, it hadn't happened. He felt himself squirm inside, boiling anger bubbling through his veins at the cheek of this girl. She had _forced_ herself on him! She had, what, sexually harassed him? Who would believe it? That a girl would willingly fling herself onto him? It was beyond hilarious!

But that very fact made it all the more painful for Severus. He wanted to grab her by the hair and pull her head back, and then whisper over her whimpers what he would do to her now that she had taken advantage of him. All the trust that he had in her...it vanished. She was just like all the others; she wanted to use him. To take what she needed and then leave him bare and forgotten like everyone else. Who was Severus Snape? He was Spy. He had no allies. He had no one who cared. The less people thought of him the better. The more inconspicuous he was, the better. What had this girl done for him? All she had done was create another scar on his body. One along the back of his head and another deeper one that cut through his anger, the wound fresh in his black heart.

He had thought...no, there was the problem: he hadn't thought. He had leapt forwards like a Gryffindor. He had one aim in life: look after Lily's son. And now he had strayed from that aim. He had created a side-line for himself, only resulting in him losing his way. He had not accomplished his original goal of getting to know Ginny: to get to know Harry through Ginny. Instead he had lost himself in the girl itself, instead of being impassive. What happened? How did it happen?

He had felt. He had been selfish. He had seen a possibility that had not been there. His demented heart had fooled his mind. In his need to feel, to feel _anything_, he had created something that wasn't there. Ginny, care for him? For the Prince of Darkness? For the Slytherin Snake? No. As per usual, people only wanted him because they needed him.

Ginny realised nothing that the Potion's Master was thinking. His face was blank. His eyes were a closed doorway, blacker than the deepest night and darker than the depths of the ocean, where light was a foreign idea that it had not experienced.

Inside, Snape was becoming cold. The ice drifting down through him slowly, sinking through his veins and into his fingertips. He suppressed a shiver as the ice consumed his heart, freezing any more ideas of _emotions_ before they could begin to grow. He killed off the tendrils that had already grown with a frost akin to the Antarctic. He would not do that to himself again. He would not put himself through that pain again; the pain of unrequited emotions. The only good those feelings were, was when it was anger against sadness. Fear against rage. There was no good for friendship against love. No use for longing against dismissal. No use for any of those.

And Dumbledore had put him up to it. He felt the ice clench tighter inside him, freezing his mind into a solid mass of spikes, sending each spike harder and harder into himself as he chastised himself for his mistake. Stupid. That was what he was. He thought he knew. He thought he had a hold of himself enough to know when he was being duped. When he was being fooled. And yet once more he only accomplished duping himself. Simply because he was a fool to himself. Lie to everyone else, that was easy enough, but when one started lying to oneself...that was when you knew. That was when warning bells should start ringing so loudly in ones ears that they drowned out the lies one wanted to say to oneself. But sometimes the lies were just so tantalizing. Were just so...innocent.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said eventually. "I know I shouldn't have done it. I wish now that I hadn't. I thought...I thought that I had stolen something from you."

"My dignity would be one thing, what would the others be?" drawled Snape. He wanted to move away from her. To put as much distance between them as possible. But he had frozen himself over so much that even his limbs were now stuck in place, only his lips moving a fraction of an inch in the effort to speak.

"Y-y-your dignity?" she asked incredulously. For some reason she was angry. He didn't understand her reaction. Surely she realised what she had done to him? What she had put him through? She was playing dumb. His insides screamed at him to wrench her aside and cause her unbearable pain. Play dumb with _him_ huh? She would reap the reward that was so obviously hers after playing him for so long. She would not win this game.

But, as much cold as he put into himself, the room reacting and creating a frost that left their breath hanging in the air, so did the anger reverberate off of Ginny Weasley. The heat coming off of her was obvious from the warm waves rushing towards him, trying to break through his ice. Trying to melt away his cold exterior.

"This has nothing to do with your _dignity_!" Ginny spat, her body shaking with her anger. "You're so _selfish_! _Oh woe is me I'm Severus Snape, I've got no friends or anyone to care for me_," Ginny imitated his deep voice, mocking him with her gestures.

"How dare you!" spat Snape, leaping to his feet as if burned by her very words. Ginny stood up too and took a hard step towards him, her body visibly shaking in her anger.

"I dare very easily, Professor Snape!" she pointed a finger at him accusingly. "All you ever do is be a bitter old man, keeping your thoughts to yourself and your feelings locked in a casket somewhere in the depths of your heart. All you ever do is give snide remarks. All you ever do is push people away! And now here is someone, me," she pointed to herself, "if you hadn't noticed! And for once someone is trying to be on your side! You said that you wanted to help me, well I've wanted to help you too! And I know that all I've ever done is give you grief because I'm some happy-go-lucky Gryffindor, but I think that I know more about you than you've let anyone know about since Dumbledore! I want to help protect you, dammit!"

The room was sweltering. Even Severus could feel himself sweating in its heat. The girl had some anger management issues that she would have to deal with, Severus found himself thinking. Other than that thought, his brain was slightly stunned. No one had spoken to him like that for a long time.

As his mind turned to a forgotten memory, all of the windows in the Room of Requirement shifted to mirror the image in his mind. The room thought that Ginny needed to see the memory, but Severus was too focused inside himself to notice the change in the room. Ginny, however, took an intake of breathe.

The windows, each at a different angle, all showed an old classroom, its use forgotten by the cobwebs hanging in various corners and crevices. Snape was in the middle of the room, tables and chairs pushed away from him in a wide circle. From the doorway strode a red-headed girl, her face scowling in a fashion that would make even Severus cower. Which the little Severus in the room did, taking a few steps back until he hit the edge of his table-chair-strewn circle.

"Sev! Why did you do it?" the girl yelled, not stopping her hard steps until she was inches away from him, her hand poking into his chest.

"I was protecting myself!" said the young Severus, still cowering although his voice rang true.

"You don't protect yourself by using a hex! You use a counter-curse or jinx!"

"Counter-curse, please," the little Severus rolled his eyes. "That's just a misnomer to make them more acceptable by the Wizarding world. They're just normal curses or jinxes that – " the girl cut him off.

"I don't want to hear about your little theories! The point is, Peter is in _hospital_ because of you!"

"Then he shouldn't have bitten off more than he can chew! If you want to blame anyone, blame that stupid Potter and Black! They're the ones who goaded the stupid prick to try to curse me!"

"Oh no you don't!" the girl said, jabbing her finger yet again into Severus's chest, although Ginny noticed Severus stood up taller this time. "Don't you _dare_ try and blame this one on Potter!"

"Why do you do that?" the whispered intent behind the words was not lost on the girl or on Ginny. Looking at the little boy, Ginny saw a shadow of what the man would become. Sadly, she also saw the shadow of what the boy _could_ become, but that had gotten lost somewhere between the past and the present.

"What?"

"Protect him."

"I-I-I don't protect _him_!" spluttered the girl, before saying more boldly, "I'm here to protect _you_!"

The windows rippled to another image, but they showed nothing in particular. Ginny looked into the present Severus Snape's face. He was whiter than usual and his black liquid eyes seemed to shine with a hidden emotion. Ginny was scared, her heart was beating wildly, but she did as any Gryffindor would do; she stood her ground.

"You will not repeat what you have seen to anyone," whispered Snape, in much the same tone of voice he had used on the girl.

"No, sir," Ginny nodded her head.

"You will return to your commonroom now," Snape turned his back on the girl, his face as pale as a ghost and stared at one of the empty windows.

Ginny realised it immediately; the room was still showing the inside of Snape's mind. He had emptied his mind of all thought, and as such the windows showed empty rooms and corridors. Gently, Ginny stepped around to the front of Snape so that once again she was looking into his cold face and even colder eyes.

"Sir," Ginny said tentatively, but after he did not react she took a breath and carried on. "Sir, I don't know what I saw just then. I don't know why the room thinks I need to know things that I obviously shouldn't. But sir, please trust me? I won't tell anyone what I saw."

"I trust you, Miss Weasley, to follow instructions."

Ginny huffed and put her hands on her hips. All of a sudden, Severus could feel that aura again, emanating off of her slowly. He felt a shiver down his back and, after a second, realised that it was not of fear, but of pleasure. He _liked_ that power. It had something to it...something special about it. He recognised it from another person that he had known who had also had that power in apparent abundance. He felt his masked emotions melt slowly off of his face, sadness coating each age-old line. As Ginny watched his facade fade before her, her expressions grew more tender. Was that pity he saw in her eyes? Or was it something not so demeaning as that?

"Sir..." she raised her hand slowly to his face but did not touch his skin. He found he wanted to push his head against that hand, feel it against his skin, bask in the glow that he now realised was not pity, but worry. Concern. For him. For the Snake of Slytherin.

She held her hand there, inviting him, but he did not move. He would not allow himself to be engulfed in that false security again. One wrong move on his part and she would be gone from his life and he would be empty once more. Why put oneself through that pain when already he had endured it?

Eventually Ginny dropped her hand.

"I thought that I had stolen it from you, Sir," Ginny said as she looked at the floor. "I thought that I had stolen your magic."

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"You ran away because you thought that you had stolen my magic?"

"Yes, Sir. I thought that I was a-a-oh I don't know. A thief! A danger to everyone around me!"

"You are a danger to me," said Severus, causing her to snap her head upwards to look him in the eye. "The reason," continued Snape, "why the Dark Lord injured me was because he could not find you in my mind. He searched harder than I have ever felt him within my mind, but the memories of you he could not find. It was as if I didn't have those memories. I knew _about_ them, but I didn't know _all_ of them. As if someone had told me the tale and I had merely pieced the parts together. And yet, because no one had told me the story, the Dark Lord could not find the memory."

Ginny took an intake of breath.

"So you got hurt because of me?" she asked slowly.

"Yes," said Snape simply, not missing the obvious shame displayed on her face.

"But how did it happen?" she asked eventually.

"How indeed," Snape drawled. "If I knew the answer, I would have given it to the Dark Lord. It would have saved me much...embarrassment."

"I'm sorry. This is all my fault!" the martyr in her kicked in and Snape smirked at her words. Typical, he mused.

"Then what are you going to do about it?" asked Snape dryly. "If you say it is your fault, then you must fix what you have done."

"I don't...I don't know how...how to fix it..." she stumbled upon her words as her thoughts raged in her mind.

"You need to learn control of your power. That is a first. Occlumensy can help. I offered to teach you in the early mornings. We will start tomorrow morning."

Ginny bobbed her head in thanks and gave him a small smile. She recognised the dismissal and was only happy to oblige.

Snape watched her as she leapt through a window and ran the corridors of Hogwarts at night, her red hair whipping behind her. The windows in the Room of Requirement split so that he was looking at that very same red hair on two different people. He didn't know if the image displayed before him was one of his memories, or one that the room had picked up from the very history of the castle.

Lily and Ginny ran side by side in alternating windows. The looks on their faces fierce with determination as they ran with a purpose firmly glued in their minds.

Even through time and space, Severus could feel the same aura emanating through the windows from both girls. He imagined a red glow about them as they whipped up to the Gryffindor tower and through the portrait hole.

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**(A/N: _And so? Your thoughts, please. I, unlike the fabulous Severus, cannot perform Legilimens and as such rely heavily on the spoken word to see what is in your mind. Or I could use the mystical Room of Requirement but it is such a temperamental thing that it might just show the inside of MY mind and then the story's ending would be such a let down, no? WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off.)_**


	16. Chapter 16  Meaning

**(A/N:_ Next chapter up. Back to the usual length of +- 4000 words. I was on holiday and now I'm back to studies so I might not be able to get my chapters up once every week like before. Does not mean I will not try my best though - writing does me too much good to stop. So, here is the next chapter! Thank you to those who reviewed in the past and to all those who have favourited (you have no idea how that simple action makes me write so much faster!) or are following! I always take into consideration what you have to say! WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off)_**

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**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 16: Meaning

Snape paced the corridor, his black cloak whipping around him in a large circle with each turn. His steps were soft against the cold stone floor, his boots well accustomed to his soft step despite his rapid movements. He looked up suddenly, his eyes large like a deer caught in a spotlight, his body frozen and tense as if ready to take flight or leap into action. But there was no one there and there was no cause for the sound, only his own form of paranoia that now gripped him from every angle.

What was he doing? He started his frantic pacing again, hands firmly shoved into his pockets, one hand gripped tightly around his wand, and the other with just a finger was stroking the feather quill that linked him to Ginny Weasley. He had told her that he would give her Occlumensy lessons in the Room of Requirement. He still did not know how it worked, but he was quite sure that when Ginny activated its magic that it would give rise to the perfect place for the girl to learn the art of blocking out her mind. But none of that was possible unless the girl _showed up_!

He growled deep in his throat, the noise carrying in the deserted corridors. She was late! How _dare_ she keep _him_ waiting? Unless she wasn't planning on showing up at all? Her insight into his mind had not been pleasant for him. But maybe it hadn't been pleasant for her either. Maybe, after seeing that...after seeing _him_...she had changed her mind. He felt himself grow cold once more, settling his heart into a state of indifference. If the girl showed up, he would help her as would any teacher who was asked by a student. If she did not show up...well then at least he had more time to feign sleep.

"Sir?"

Severus almost jumped. Almost. Instead his suddenly rigid body turned to see the sight of Ginny Weasley before him. Her hair was tousled. Her face flushed. Her breathe came in large pants.

"S-s-sorry I'm late, Sir," she finally got out, staggering against the wall while still trying to gain air. "I ran into Filch – literally. I only just got away."

Snape scowled at her, but more so to hide his own pleasure at her final arrival.

"I thought," he said slowly, emphasising each word, "that I had made it perfectly clear that you were to take the hidden passage down two floors and then make your way into the library where the fourth row in the History of Forgotten Warlocks section would give way to stairs that would take you directly to this floor. You should have arrived fifteen minutes ago from _that_" he pointed over his shoulder, "direction if you were to follow my instructions properly."

"Yes, sir," Ginny, finally standing up straight, lifted her chin up high and looked at Snape directly. Snape wondered when she had grown so bold, or if it was just a lack of fear that allowed her to look at him like she was now. Even worse, with a smile. "I _did_ follow your instructions almost perfectly. I arrived in the Library and was on my way to the fourth row – which, I might add, is _the most_ difficult row to find in the whole library!"

"_Forgotten_ Warlocks, Miss Weasley. The books are as forgotten as the history that they hold."

Ginny brushed that fact off with a wave of her hand. Snape felt a wave of power drift his way as if fanned there by Ginny's movements.

"Anyway, so I was on the way there when I heard voices. At first I didn't realise who they were – I thought it might be some students. But then I crept closer and," her eyes lit up as do so many others as they impart a spectacularly juicy piece of gossip, "I saw two people _snogging_!"

Snape raised his eyebrows in amusement at her sudden girlish side that she was revealing to him. She took this as a sign of boredom, for then she hurriedly carried on.

"It gets better!" she reassured. "I couldn't see very well – I was looking through some heavy books that kept on letting their pages fly up around them – "

"– Gravity Contravening Curse books, Miss Weasley, learn your library well. They will come in handy for your NEWTs."

Ginny was hardly listening and again shushed Snape.

"So I moved one of the _Gravity Contravening Curse_ books to the side. All the pages were fluttering around so much that the kissing couple didn't even notice me moving the book. And then I saw who it was!" she paused for dramatic effect but Snape would have none of it.

"Are you finally reaching your climax, Miss Weasley?" he drawled, tapping his foot to a song playing only in his head.

"It was Filch! And Madame Pince! Kissing!"

Snape raised his eyebrow again. He wondered if he raised the same one each time he did the action and then wondered if the one side of his face got more of a work out than the other. He relaxed his brow at the thought but Ginny had seen the look of disbelief.

"I'm telling the truth! Pince and Filch were _kissing_! Snogging old fashion style, you know? Dipping her and all that?"

"I'm sure that Mrs Norris would be more grateful for your sudden news than I am. Instead, I am still waiting for the part where you are caught and have to run away."

"Oh, no that didn't happen like that. I got away from them pretty well on my own. But I couldn't get past them to get to the secret passage that would take me up to this floor. So I decided to get to the passage some other way. Of course that meant I had to go into the restricted section to try and get around to the other side. An alarm of some kind went off as soon as I crossed the line though and I turned and tried to make my way out of the Library. But then I saw Filch head me off. And Madame Pince went to the other door. Those two are real fast considering how old they are! But then I heard a whisper and, I think it was a book or something, but it kinda lead me on. You know?"

"You heard voices? In the restricted section?" his curiosity raised, Snape's finger unconsciously began stroking the soft hem of his robe as his mind started to slowly turn with the new knowledge. It wasn't that she was hearing voices – it was that the books were talking to her. The castle was reacting to her presence. It did not often react to the students, serving only as a place for them to learn and move on. But, every once in a while, the castle acknowledged a student. The question was...why?

"So I followed the voice's directions and came to a dead end. And then I turned just as Filch came around the corner and then..." panting, Ginny came to the pinnacle of her story, her eyes flashing brightly with the discovery she had made, "the floor sucked me up! It just, I dunno, _opened_! And then dropped me out of the roof down that way," she indicated the direction that she had approached Snape from, "on the stairs. Then the stairs moved to the right floor and I followed them and I came to you!"

Her last sentence told in a rush of one breathe, Ginny panted with the amazement that is the magic of the castle.

"All that, and you were still late. Couldn't you have asked the castle to bring you here a little earlier?"

"It wasn't the castle," scoffed Ginny. "I obviously just found a new passageway!"

"It is no wonder you were not sorted into Ravenclaw, Miss Weasley," grumbled Snape. "However, my disappointment aside at your obvious lack of brain power, I feel I must educate you on one of the most hidden secrets of this castle; it is as alive as you or I."

As if in answer to the Professors statement, the door to the Room of Requirement appeared before them without so much as an inkling of the two's energy to make it appear.

"You did that?" asked Ginny, looking at the door as if it wanted to eat her.

Taking a step towards the door, Snape said "Nope," before opening the door with a hard twist of the golden knob and disappearing behind it.

With a shifty glance down the empty hallways of Hogwarts castle, Ginny followed after.

And found herself in a stunning classroom donning the colours of red and silver.

"Looks like Hogwarts has answered our need for a classroom and decided on what is best for us," Snape's lip curled upwards in an amused smile. Never did the castle cease to impress him.

"Why the colours?" asked Ginny as she took a tentative step into the room. It had a teacher's desk at the front and a single table in the middle of the room, both the table and its partnered chair were on wheels to easily move it out of the way to make way for more practical workings.

"I'm sure you can find the significance of silver," Snape pointed to himself, "and red," and then pointed to Ginny.

"Er, a combination of Slytherin and Gryffindor?" asked Ginny after scrunching her face up in thought.

"Very good, Miss Weasley. I see you are learning to think already."

Ginny scoffed before grumbling, "I darn well know how to think."

"Then you will have to prove it to me," intoned Snape in a bored voice as he inspected the room.

Arriving at the teacher's desk on a slightly raised platform, Snape froze at the item glittering serenely up at him. Curious, Ginny came closer to see the item too.

"What is it?" she asked eventually.

"This, Miss Weasley, is what is called a Pensieve. It is used to house memories so that one may take a look at them at another angle, or allow others to see what one has remembered. It is also used when one's mind is so full of thoughts that, to allow one the chance of singular thought, one can dispel some memories into it to focus on those memories alone."

"But if you have a memory in your head, and you put it into the Pensieve, and then you look at the memory...then won't you remember the memory after having looked at it?" asked Ginny.

"The memory is never taken away from the owner. You cannot get rid of memories without using a forgetful charm. However, the Pensieve can keep memories safe. So if one were to break into the owner's mind, they would not be able to see those memories because they are also protected by the Pensieve."

After saying that, Severus put his wand to his temple and, with a slightly strained frown on his face, pulled a long strand of silver liquid out of his skin. The liquid held to the tip of the wand, floating slightly in a nonexistent breeze. Then, before the memory could be lost to the air, Severus placed it onto the protective surface of the Pensieve. They both watched as the silver thoughts turned red and swirled downwards into the depths of the Pensieve, neither liquid nor swirling air.

"Did you just put a memory into the Pensieve?" asked Ginny.

"Yes," replied Snape simply, looking away from the glistening contents of the bowl.

"Why?"

"Because we are about to commence with your first Occlumency lesson. If you should happen to break through my Legilimens and enter my mind, there are certain things that would be better for you not to know."

"But if you're such a skilled Occlumens, then surely I wouldn't be able to break through your mind?" enquired Ginny before saying quickly, "Maybe we should have a theory lesson before we do the practical part?"

Snape could tell she was just as uneasy about Snape in her mind as he was with Ginny in his. Maybe a theoretical lesson couldn't hurt all that much. He had never given one to Harry, but that was because time was of the essence with the boy and when it came down to it, it was much better if one followed one's natural defences than being asked to choose between those offered.

"Alright," said Snape as he stepped away from the desk and towards the blackboard. Finding a piece of chalk, Snape turned to Ginny to see that she had already taken her place at her seat. Windows around them let in the early morning light, its watery warmth splaying rippling long shadows across the ground as dust motes floated in the air.

Ginny was bathed in that morning light, her hair in a long ponytail down her back looked like a fiery rope. Her shoulders were hunched over the desk, an inked quill poised over a long piece of parchment, while her eyes were only for him. He smirked at her readiness before he took his teaching stance and began.

As he talked, he waved his wand at the chalk in his hand and it took to the blackboard, automatically writing out key words and phrases as well as indicating correct angles and sums for the magic of Legilimensy to take proper effect. Legilimensy wasn't just an ordinary spell that one put over another; position of the one performing Legilimensy and the one performing Occlumensy was important, as well as so many other physical factors. The chalk seemed to have a life of its own as it followed Snape's words and covered the board in definitions and drawings.

"To describe the ways of Occlumensy, one must first understand Legilimensy. While one uses Legilimens, they open a pathway to the other's mind whereby thoughts or memories can flow into the Receiver's mind from the Holder. This link is not an imaginary thing – it is a real force. That is why eye-contact is sometimes so essential for the process; the eyes offer an easy route for the Link to pass through and enter the Holder's mind. The part of Holder and Reciever, however, can easily be reversed.

"If the Holder wishes to keep his memories and thoughts to himself, there are a number of different ways to do so.

"Firstly, the easiest option is to _reverse_ the Link. Because the most difficult part of Legilimensy is creating the Link, there is a moment at the beginning of the power struggle where the Holder can take advantage of the depleted concentration of the Recipient. If the flow is reversed then there is less energy needed by the former Holder to open the gap into the mind of the former Recipient. We call this a Switch. More energy is needed to close the Link once made, and as such, if a Former Recipient became the Holder, they would experience a lack of concentration from firstly making the Link and then, secondly, having to close down the Link once the reversal was made. It takes valuable time to close down a Link whereby the Former Holder can experience the Former Recipient's thoughts despite the fact that the Former Holder might not know Legilimens. To combat the chance of Reversal, the Receiver must make the initial contact with the Holder a strong one – so much so that the Holder's mind is rendered stunned. This way, it disallows the Holder from reacting to the initial contact.

"Once the Link has been made, the only option the Holder has is to try to break the thread. I will discuss the various courses of action now.

"Of course, the easiest way to break the Link is to not have it be made in the first place. This means one must avoid eye contact or any form of physical contact. Also, avoid high levels of emotion that could render the Holder unprotected. This includes forms of negative as well as positive emotions such as anger and fear as well as happiness and love. If the Link is trying to attach itself to the Holder's mind, the Holder must imagine themselves as having no emotions at all, and as such, no mind either. As the heart of humans runs the mind – whether we care to admit it or not – the Holder must block themselves from their feelings and emotions so as to prove to oneself that they have no conscience. For it is the conscience that houses ones memories and thoughts and leads the direction of one's thought patterns. To stop the Link before it is made, one must convince the Link that there is _nothing to link to. _The only way to fool the Link, since the Link is directed by the Recipient, is to fool oneself and thus the Recipient and, finally, the Link. It is an act that requires much energy and often results in the Holder eventually believing, beyond a doubt, that they have no conscience to begin with.

"Another option that is often looked over since it happens to hold a large potential of negative aspects, is to split one's mind and to _allow_ the Link to be made to one part of one's mind. If the Holder knows how to split their mind accurately, then the Recipient may wonder freely through the Holder's thoughts, taking whatever they like from the Holder's mind, while the other half of the Holder's mind is secure from the Recipient. This option also allows the Holder the ability to stay focused on the real world and not just be encompassed in their mind fighting blindly against the images of their own memories. A Split, however, is very difficult to master, and often times is only done by accident. It requires impeccable timing so that the Recipient does not become aware of the Split and so that the Link does not connect itself to the wrong half. A Split is infinitely important though."

Snape looked at Ginny who was scribbling furiously on her parchment. He noticed she had drawn stickmen and a line from the one to the other next to each explanation that he had given her. The one drawing held a "link line" with arrows on either side to show the act of Reversal. Another showed a link line cut off before it reached the next stickman who had a black heart-shape in its midst. A third link line hit the top of the stickman's head while the bottom of the head was scribbled black to explain a Split. She was following along quite nicely, he mused, but the way they were going he would not be able to practice the art of Legilimens or Occlumens on her in this lesson. Time was almost up and he was hardly even half way through the different methods of defence against Legilimens. As if on cue, the light shining through the windows hit the blackboard, covering its dark surface in reflective light so that one could not look at it. The chalk, worn down to a tiny stub, fell to the ground and Snape folded his arms.

"I believe, Miss Weasley, that that is all for today."

She looked to him with an odd expression on her face.

"But we're not done yet," she said.

"No, but we will have another lesson tomorrow morning. You cannot learn everything in one session."

"I suppose not..." she mumbled.

"And, you cannot learn anything without food. Breakfast should be well underway by now."

"You never eat breakfast," Ginny said and then clamped her hand fast over her mouth.

Snape was slightly surprised by her knowledge of that fact. Snape did not eat breakfast – he only made his appearance at the Teacher's Table to make it appear like he did. And also because the Headmaster made it quite clear that he wanted him to be there in the mornings. It was not for lack of appetite that he did not eat. He could never eat after having some of his nightmares. He tried – he really did. But often the rich food of Hogwarts was too much for him so early after reliving his actions. His House Elf, the one appointed to look after him, knew what to give him after some of his episodes; a strong cup of black coffee with an even stronger hint of Ballinoid Gnome Brandy to it.

"I'll go eat breakfast," announced Ginny, getting to her feet. But then she glared at Snape, "only if you go to _eat_ breakfast too."

"You are making demands of a teacher, Miss Weasley?" he was amused despite himself.

"No," she said bluntly and then stuck her chin up in the air. Snape could see what was going to happen; she was going to say something obviously bold and exceptionally foolish. Only a Gryffindors used that type of pose when they were about to do something completely fool hardy. He was not disappointed as she said, "I am making demands of a friend."

He raised one eyebrow – making sure this time that he raised the one that he didn't always use – as he looked at her stubborn face. He struggled hard to keep his breathing even as he fought back laughter. He felt a twitch in his cheek and thought that she had deserved a smile...at least a small one.

Ginny, apparently made much too happy by the small gesture, ran forwards and hugged Snape. He froze solid by she didn't seem to notice, or if she did, she didn't seem to care. Strangely, Snape found that he did care – and very much so. Relaxing his arms only, he patted her back awkwardly.

"Thank you for coming to breakfast with me!" she announced through his chest.

"I am not coming to breakfast with you, Miss Weasley. I will be sitting at my table and you at yours," he said sternly.

She looked up from his chest into his midnight black eyes. He wondered what she was thinking but even if he tried he knew he would not know; her aura was tangible. Perhaps she knew that though and was doing it on purpose, because she smiled up at him in a crooked fashion before winking and saying, "That's what everyone else will see."

Then she unwrapped her arms from around him and skipped out of the Room of Requirement. Alone in the room, Snape saw a handkerchief float slowly down from the roof. He caught it mid-drop and used it to wipe his sweating forehead. On his way out of the room, he placed the handkerchief on a shelf before saying to the room, "Yes, I needed that, but don't you think I need something more too?"

As if laughing at him, Snape saw a board had hung itself on the back of the door. He growled as he read what the board said.

Stupid smug Room of Requirement.

He banged the door behind him before stalking off angrily towards the Great Hall.

Back in the Room of Requirement, everything was slowly melting into nothing at its sudden lack of purpose. The last thing to disappear into awaiting white nothingness, was a wooden board with a curly-written word carved into it. The wood melted slowly, diffusing until only the word stood out stark in the whiteness.

Eventually, only the room saw the word "Courage" disintegrate into nothing because of a lack of meaning.

**(A/N: _And so? Thoughts are welcome! I think I like the Room toying with Snape. I often wonder, if the Sorting Hat had brains stuffed inside him to allow him to think, then what does the room have to let it think? It can't just be magic - maybe it steals the thinking power of those around it? I'm rambling. WonderWhiteRabbit hopping thoughtfully off.)_**


	17. Chapter 17  Ambition

**(A/N: _Next chapter! It has taken a while, more my fault than the story's I'm afraid. What can I say, I'm just a rabbit wondering around after all. But, jokes aside, please read and I leave my chapter open to your most wonderful criticism_**._** Wonderwhiterabbit hopping off**_.)

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**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 17: Ambition

Severus stood in front of the blank wall on the seventh floor. What was the secret to opening the Room of Requirement? He'd seen Harry Potter stand in front of this wall too in the boy's memories. And then what did he do? He walked in front of it. But walking in front of a blank wall in Hogwarts was hardly an astounding thing. Students walked past walls plenty of times on their way to whatever their destination may be. There had to be something _more_ to open it. And how did the Room _know_? That was what he wanted to know. How did the Room know what he knew and what he needed?

That was the trick then, he decided as his fingers trailed over his clenched jaw, snagging on the stubble that he hadn't bothered to shave off after yesterday. The Weasley girl had really ruined his morning habits. Now, instead of an hour-long shower consisting of nothing but boiling water to wash away his nightmares, he met her fresh from the shivers and shakes of his past relived. Then he went straight to breakfast, and if he was lucky enough to get away quick enough without Dumbledore realising that he hadn't eaten a thing, then he could maybe dip his head under the stream of water for a fast-five-minute soak. Five minutes was barely enough to wet his straggly hair, nevermind shave. If Ginny Weasley complained that his hair was appearing more oily, then she only had one person to blame.

But Ginny Weasley was not going to help him now. She was probably with the other fourth-year Gryffindors in Transfiguration right now. All the better, he thought with a snarl. She was a child, for Merlin's sake! He did not need to rely on _her_ to unlock the secrets of this castle! He, who had found just as many passages as the Marauders. He who had not needed a damnable _cloak_ to get about unseen. He, who was – but he stopped himself before he thought that last part.

He was not awesome. He was humble. He was not great. He was meek. He was not forceful. He was...gentle.

As gentle as a kitten licking a wound. As gentle a stalked hare in the nighttime forest padding across silken earth. As gentle as a lover. His mindset changed, he found himself standing against the wall, smelling it, caressing it lovingly. He spared no thoughts for any straying students. Instead his fingers etched the wall, feeling the Room's presence. His nose sniffed the delicate scent of the Room's power. He felt the Room's age seep through him. As old as the castle..._no_...older. Yes, the room was older than the castle. It wasn't a room. It was a cave before...made by very history itself...found by the Founders of Hogwarts. Crafted around it. Magic supplied by the room. Help supplied by the room. Every Founder had touched this room, no, _cave_. And when the castle was built...it disappeared, no longer needed.

Ah, but wait, if he touched just like _so_, and just _there_...yes, he could feel it. Being Head of Slytherin meant that he had come into close contact with many Slytherin artifacts, each with this particular taste of magic. Despite its age, its touch was still rough as his power brushed through his fingertips to trace its dark lines. Salazar had found that the cave had not disappeared. Just changed itself to something more necessary. Something more _needed_. And the Room had helped Salazar because Salazar needed it. And all the room wanted to do was please. To help. To make its users happy.

Staggering back from the wall, Severus opened his eyes. It couldn't be...could it?

"Eyeri" Snape whispered into the air.

With a _crack_ that was barely louder than his whisper, his personal house elf appeared, large watery eyes downcast but ears perked and receptive.

"Master of Potions called and Eyeri answers," the elf bobbed her head whilst still staring at the floor.

"Good, take me to the kitchen." He could have walked, but time was of the essence.

The little elf hardly even touched him as she placed a finger on his robe and _cracked_ them to the kitchens.

"Master wants tea? Or coffee?" asked Eyeri barely a second after they landed.

"Water please. What I really want though," said Snape, his eyes barely leaving the still-stooped head of the elf as she went about getting a glass and filling it with clear water – adding ice and a lemon wedge after a second thought – waiting for the reaction he was bound to get from his request. "What I really want – no, _need_ – is your help."

He was not disappointed. The elf squeaked shrilly and threw the glass high in the air, large eyes watering with happy tears already streaking down the elf's face. Snape raised an eyebrow and pointed in the air where the glass was still sailing happily upwards, its contents glued to the bottom of the glass as centrifugal force took its toll. But before the glass could reach zero velocity and start its downwards plummet, Eyeri glared at it and, as if conducted by strings, the glass slowed down and then grumpily drifted down into Eyeri's awaiting hands. The still water glittered as the little elf handed the glass of water to Snape.

His raised eyebrow fell. As Eyeri had glared, he had felt her power. And had recognised it. He was right...he was so very right and he knew it and as such his scowl grew more triumphant and he had to suppress it from becoming a proper smile by gulping down the water without a breath.

"How can Eyeri help Master of Potions?" Eyeri enquired as she took the glass away from him and sent it towards other awaiting house elves. Severus finally took notice of his surroundings. Eyeri had taken him to a seat that was exactly the same as his usual at the teacher's table, and he knew this to be a direct replica of the one in the Great Hall directly above him. He would have thought he was in the Great Hall if it weren't for the lack of magical ceiling as well as the many heads bobbing in front of him, all with large eyes of varying magical colours – he swore he saw a pair that was puce!

But he shook his head. It didn't matter how many elves were around him. Actually, with the questions he had to ask, it was all the better.

"There is a Room," began Professor Snape, crossing his legs and neatly placing his hands in his lap, "in the castle that grants one's every need. It is known as the Room of Requirement. I need to know about that room."

"Sir speaks of the come-and-go Room," squeaked an elf in the crowd. Eyeri turned and glared at the culprit, obviously offended that someone else was trying to help her Master when obviously he had asked her.

"The come-and-go Room, or Room of Requirement, sir," said Eyeri eventually, happy that no-one else would butt-in while she was being questioned and couldn't answer, "has been here for as long as Hogwarts has."

"Yes, I gathered as much," Severus drawled. "However, I also felt...ancient age. It is older than Hogwarts, I presume?" he turned his conclusion into a question.

It took Eyeri a moment to answer.

"Master of Potions is very clever," she said. "The room is older than Hogwarts."

"Then tell me how the Room came to be. What was it before?"

There was a murmur around him and elves shuffled their feet ominously. They weren't happy about this conversation.

"Why does sir want to know?" asked Eyeri, and her question was met with a few cried agreements and more than a few affirmative mumbles.

Severus stared hard and long into Eyeri's deep brown eyes, his face a clear rock with hardly an etched feature in place to mar his smooth skin. He had turned from a welcome guest to one worthy of caution. In both his and the house-elves' cases. He decided to be diplomatic, rather than to rant and rave that he was their master and they had to obey him. But he had to admit; this was the first time he had ever experienced the house-elves being apprehensive to help someone.

And with that thought, he said, "I wish to help someone, but in order to do that, I need to know the truth about the c-" he cut himself off before he said _cave_ and changed it in mid word construction, "_concealed room_."

"Master wishes to help someone?" enquired Eyeri, and approved whispers ran a shiver through the crowd of house-elves.

"It would seem so," his lip curled upwards.

Then with simultaneous loud _cracks_, the house-elves were once more going about their business, while Eyeri and a few other house-elves were now sitting on three-legged stools in front of him. Two of the elves looked older than Kreacher, the one's eyes fogged over by old age and the other supporting an umbrella as a walking stick. The other elves appeared at the ready, sitting up straight and staring at the ceiling as if waiting for orders from the elderly two or from above where the Great Hall loomed.

"Eyeri will introduce Master of Potions now," said Eyeri to Severus, not yet on her seat. "This be Great Mother and this be Great Father," and she dipped a curtsey to both before taking her seat. "They is first house-elves ever to be part of Hogwarts. They is Founders."

Snape dipped his head to the two house-elves, not sure whether the one could see his actions or not, but quite sure nonetheless that he had to show some semblance of honour at being in their presence.

"You helped build Hogwarts?" asked Snape.

"Yes," said the one with the umbrella walking stick. "I am Evenesso. My Mistress is dead but lives on in the castle. So is the same with Yamino. We were once four, but Ribano and Tilimy could not go on with their masters fighting. So when the masters fought, they fought. And when their masters died, they died."

Snape had never heard house-elf names quite like those of the Four Founders, but he thought he liked them more than the silly names given to the newer generations. These old names were strong.

"You were either Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff's house-elf?" asked Snape.

"You speak my Mistress's name with kindness. She would have liked that from a Slytherin."

Snape still didn't know which of the women was Evenesso's mistress, but it didn't matter. "How did you come to be her house-elf?"

"They came to us. They needed us. The power within us is useless if not used for others. They were weak, but we had the power they needed," her age-old voice cracked.

"The four founders of Hogwarts, weak?" asked Severus slightly appalled. As far as he was aware, they were some of the most powerful wizards before Albus Dumbledore was born.

The other house-elf cleared his throat. Yamino faced Severus general direction, his blind eyes focused on nothing in particular before saying, "When one has need but no means, then one is weak. But when wizards find house-elves, we has meaning again and they has means. Then wizards become strong and house-elves become needed, and they has means and we has meaning."

Snape knew from the way the house-elf talked that Evenesso was Ravenclaw's and Yamino was Hufflepuff's. There was no way Rowena Ravenclaw would have an uneducated house-elf who could not speak proper English – it would have driven her insane.

"So you were just _somewhere_?" asked Snape.

"No," Evanesso shook her head slowly – Snape could swear he could hear her old bones creaking in her neck joints. "We were... We were living in the Cradle of our Kind. It gave birth to us and all others. But once the world was populated with house-elves, the Cradle was no longer needed. So it gave birth to us, the final four house-elves who were supposed to look after the Cradle. But the Cradle had no more need. So it gave its power to us. And the Cradle started to die. But then the Finders found us, and needed us, and needed the Cradle. And the Cradle...it realised too late. It had already given us too much life. So it gave the rest to the Finders. But the Four, we put the Cradle to sleep before it could die. We were supposed to look after it. Protect it until it was needed again. Until it had meaning. So we helped those who had the Cradle's Power. The Finders made the castle around it. And then the Four used the extra magic and put it back into the Cradle. And the Cradle changed to what was needed and became a Room in the castle. And so the House-Elves work in the castle, for the castle, because the Cradle which made us needs us. But it is still in sleep, awakening only when it senses someone's need."

Snape's face, still as smooth and emotionless as polished marble, stared unbelieving at the little house-elf. The magic that the founders of Hogwarts had was House-Elf magic? Never would Salazar Slytherin have accepted such a thing!

Or maybe he was wrong. Slytherins...they weren't only about pride. He had forgotten the one thing that set Slytherins apart from Gryffindors...ambition. They both had pride. Cleverness might set them apart slightly, but who was he to choose between Gryffindor daring or Slytherin cunning? No. In truth, it was _ambition_.

And he had forgotten it. He had let everything else carry _him_ away. But he very much doubted if Salazar Slytherin had forgotten. Would Salazar sink so low as to accept power from an elf? Simply put; yes.

But there was something nagging in his memory. Oh if only he read _Hogwarts: a History_ as much as Hermione Granger did, then he might be able to remember the tedious thing. But his memory could not fail him; Salazar Slytherin had fled the school weakened after a final confrontation with Godric Gryffindor. But what if...yes...

"What did the Finders," he almost said _Founders_, "do with their power?"

"My Mistress made the different commonrooms," said Evanesso, "while Yamino's Mistress made the grounds. The castle was brought to life by the Masters of Ribano and Tilimy, while the Four made the rest."

"Did the Finders lose their powers after?"

"No, while they stayed in the castle, their magic was made new."

"But Salazar fought Godric before he left," said Snape, his brain trying desperately to categorise his new information.

"Yes," Yamino spoke up, his eyes whirling and making Snape queasy just looking at them. "But Master Slytherin...he had a meaning. He did what Master needed to do."

"Yamino does not know what he is saying," snapped Evanesso sharply, making Snape's eyebrow raise ever so slightly. "Master Slytherin did not _need_ to do what he did. He did what he _wanted _to do."

"What did he do?"

"He made a secret...and then he needed a reason to leave. So the castle gave him a reason. And the friends fought. And he left."

"What was his secret?"

"But Master of Potions already knows," said the ancient Evanesso with something representing a toothy smile under all of her wrinkles. "Master already knows Slytherin's Secret."

"The Chamber?" asked Snape with barely a whisper.

"Yes," said Yamino quickly before Evanesso could answer. "But Slytherin _needed_ to make the Secret."

Evanesso took in a deep breath, getting ready to have a heavy argument as if they had it all the time. But Snape was not going to let her start.

"Why? Yamino," he directed his question to him purposefully. "Why did Slytherin _need_ to make the Chamber? To hide the Beast within?"

"The Beast was not there to be hidden – it was there to guard...to _protect_..."

"To protect what?"

But, although the elf's mouth was half open in answer, he was frozen. It took Snape a moment to catch on because the eyes were still completely wide open, their silvery ancient depths churning slowly, but then he saw; the elf had fallen asleep!

"You must forgive Yamino. He gets carried away and does not have much energy any more. Master Slytherin made the Chamber because he wanted to keep the Secret to himself, not because he wanted to protect it."

"But what is _it_?" Severus hardly even noticed his own voice rising in annoyance, but Eyeri jumped from her seat.

"Master must go now," said Eyeri sternly and Snape knew his visit was up. But he was not leaving empty handed, so he raised gracefully from his seat and allowed Eyeri to put a finger to his robe and – _crack_ – he was back in his classroom.

Turning around and facing the door, Severus heard a murmur outside, and realised that he had the Potter brat and his Dumb Duo to deal with. Opening the door with a swish of his wand, Draco stood at the forefront of the crowd of fifth years.

"Draco," Snape snapped, making the boy's eyes large with feigned innocence, "what are the main characteristics of a Gryffindor and a Slytherin respectively?"

"Well, Sir," stumbled Draco as Snape visibly saw the boy's brain try to catch up with the situation, "A Gryffindor is difficult. From personal experience, I'd say stupidity, but from what I've heard it's supposed to be bravery."

Snape heard a hiss from behind Draco as the Gryffindors heard what he'd said.

"And for Slytherins?" he enquired.

"That's easy sir. There's nothing more characteristic of a Slytherin than his ambition."

With a smirk worthy of Salazar Slytherin himself, Snape allowed the students into his class and said, "Too right you are Draco. Slytherin would be happy with the ten points you just earned."

And with that answer, Snape knew what was hidden in the Chamber of Secrets, and with a burning of ambition that he had to suppress, Snape knew that he wanted it.

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**(A/N:_ So this is where the real plot begins! The Chamber of Secrets...as if the name doesn't say it all. Let me know what you think! WonderWhiteRabbit hopping mysteriously off)_**


	18. Chapter 18  Desire

**(A/N:_ Alright! Exams are almost over! I have two weeks off before my last exam, so I'm going to use the time to catch up on my writing. I am pleased to say that most of the exams have gone so far, but unfortunately I do not have Hermione's brain, thus the reason for the lack of updates. The lack of writing, however, has made me ready to go now that I can write, so chapters the story should be flowing nicely now. Nothing like a forced break to make one really appreaciate the things one loves. Ah yes, absence definitely make the heart grow fonder. And now, enjoy! _**_WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off**)**_

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__**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 18: Desire

It did not matter that he was merely a teacher. It did not matter that he dealt with incompetent fools every single day of his pitiful life. It did not matter that his status was below the level of his own students. None of that mattered to Ginny Weasley.

As she sat in his potion's class and listened to him drawl away about how to accurately pickle substances of flesh and blood, Ginny couldn't help but think about her latest lesson with Professor Snape.

He was so different when it was just her and him. There was none of this "oh you fools you can't do anything" attitude. It was more like a..."Ginny you can do anything" attitude. It was just so different. His drawl would come to life, sparked by her interest in the subject matter. His voice would grow louder and softer as his points varied. His magicked chalk would flurry across the blackboard in their designed room that the Room of Requirement had made for them. And all the time Ginny would sit, absolutely mesmerised, by the wonderful person that is Professor Snape.

Yes, he still snapped at her. Yes he still snarled. Yes, she was still afraid of him. But now it was for a reason completely foreign to before. Before, she hated him because he was a slytherin. Before, she hated him because of who he was. And all of that combined made him into the man she was afraid of. But now...She hated him because he was only a Slytherin on the surface. Now she hated him because of the man he was forced to be. Really, he was just a stupid little fool. He had made a horrible mistake in his life, and now he perpetually felt bad about that mistake. Granted, some mistakes are harder to fix, and even harder to forgive. But surely time can make wonders? And if not time, then how about a bit of magic?

"Miss Weasley, what did I just say?" Snape's voice snapped across the classroom.

Ginny didn't bother raising her head from the parchment she had been doodling on. Living with Fred and George meant that you picked up on their tricks – how to daydream and listen at the same time was one of those tricks.

"You just said that the temperature of the item being pickled must be equal to that of the concoction it must be placed into. Too hot and it will cook, and too cold and the item will freeze and loose some of its usable potential."

Snape walked the length of the classroom and stood in front of her desk, a cold sneer in place. Still, Ginny didn't look at him, her hand continuing the drawing on her parchment. Eventually she sighed and placed the quill down neatly on the desk before looking up into Snape's deep black eyes. She realised with a start that his eyes weren't cold – they were lonely. Ginny quickly lowered her gaze to his strong nose instead.

"Miss Weasley, even if you are gifted with the magical talent of multitasking, it would be more appropriate for you to appear interested in a teacher's class rather than drawing stick figures on your page.

Ginny looked down at her parchment. She hadn't even noticed what she'd been doing, but seeing the many stick figures each with lines drawn from one to the next, she realised she had been revisiting her most recent Occlumency lesson with Professor Snape.

Just a few weeks ago, Ginny would have taken Professor Snape on. She would have shouted and yelled. She would have thrown a tantrum at being singled out and then answering the question right and then still being punished for it. But that was then. And this was now. So Ginny just shrugged her shoulders and said, "Yes, Sir," before picking up her quill and waiting for Snape to resume his class.

Snape didn't move. For some reason, he appeared angry by her actions. By her lack of actions, rather.

"Miss Weasley, I will see you after class!" he snapped with more force than was necessary, and then stalked back to the front of the class, rapping the board hard with his wand. "This is the potion used to see if there are contaminates in a pickle-substance. If brewed correctly, a drop into a contaminated pickle-substance will turn the contents blue. If not contaminated, it will turn the contents momentarily white to indicate purety and then disappear. I suggest you get this right, because one of you will be drinking a jar of pickled substance and if your potion gets the contents wrong, you might as well all die."

Ginny rolled her eyes to the ceiling. She was so out of it today. She couldn't bring herself to concentrate on her work. Her mind kept on flashing between different points of focus, none of which were her studies. It pained her to admit it, but she was thinking just as much about Harry these days as she was about Professor Snape. And she didn't like it. Especially the _way_ she was thinking about Professor Snape. It wasn't good. But who ever got into trouble for daydreaming? And so her mind continued to wonder.

At the end of the class, each student was given five bottles of different pickled substances and told to drop some of their potion into each. Ginny wasn't even pleased when hers worked. Actually, she bit her lip in frustration. Everything on the outside appeared normal. Her studies were going well. Her relationships and friendships were going well. Everything was going well. And she didn't like that at all because it wasn't normal. Nothing was normal. She was in the middle of a tumble of anger and hurt and frustration. And she blamed it all on the War. No one else seemed worried or concerned about the War. In fact, hardly anyone seemed to notice that there was a War going on. But there was. Is. There is a War going on, Ginny thought hard to herself. And here was Ginny, in Potions class. Following the instructions in a book. As if you could follow instructions about anything and everything.

Ginny was hardly even aware of the class leaving around her as she stared at the two blue vials and three clear ones before her. Life wasn't like pickled substances. There isn't a test one can use to determine how dangerous one situation is from another. It could be the most normal thing – cooking in a kitchen, pulling weeds out of a garden, walking down stairs – that ends up being the most dangerous. All that one can do in situations like these is to be on full alert. To be ready for anything. And everything.

But witches and wizards...they're just humans! They cannot be on "full alert" at all times...they have to take a breather some time. Take a moment to gather themselves and remind them of who they are and that everything is going to be alright. You can't expect someone to live their whole lives expecting the worst!

"Miss Weasley?"

Professor Snape. There was a perfect example of what happens to a man when the ability to relax and remind is taken away from a person. Ginny realised this and it only made the knot in her stomach grow harder still. It wasn't fair. The whole War, the whole situation...it wasn't fair!

"Miss Weasley?"

Why did it have to be like this? Why was she always thinking about Harry? Why was there an aching gap somewhere deep inside her? A desire so strong that nothing could take it away? And why did this gap ache and beet with pain everytime she thought of Harry in trouble? In danger? And why, oh why oh why oh why! Why was it that when she wasn't thinking about Harry in trouble, this ache started to immolate, to beet just as strongly, as when she thought of Snape in trouble?

"Miss Weasley, you give me too much credit. I haven't even given you your punishment and you are already crying."

She was crying? Why was she crying? Because of the injustice. Because as much as she felt for Professor Snape, she felt more for Harry. And Professor Snape was always in danger. All the time. It didn't matter that he was a teacher. That he was a pitiful man. That his status was below the level of his own students. It didn't matter because of what he was _doing_. He was fighting. When none of them could do anything but follow orders in books, Professor Snape was busy writing a book with his own recipe to follow, the faster his steps being written meaning the longer his life would be. And despite this, the ache was more for Harry than for him. It was an ache of concern. Of worry. And nothing would fill that ache up while the War was still going on. And the War would always be going on until one of these great men in the world died. It didn't matter who triumphed; the point was, the War would be over.

"Ginny?"

Ginny realised her eyes were closed tight and it took her a moment to open them. In front of her was Professor Snape at eye level. He was squatting in front of her table, his folded arms resting on the table and his chin perked on his arms.

"Now why do you listen when I call you by your first name, and not your surname?"

Ginny opened her mouth to say something, but her throat was too tight. She couldn't get anything out. He was looking at her with those sad lonely eyes with understanding, and it was too much. Those eyes were too much for her. She wanted to move and run away from this man. This man who accepted the very thing that Ginny was trying to reject. War. It was too much for her. What could she do? She had to do something.

Severus Snape might have known what Ginny was thinking, or he might have guessed, or just gotten it right on the off chance, but Ginny froze when he said, "It's painful at first. But after a while everything just...goes numb."

Did Snape know? Ginny stared at the man before her. His pale skin. His long nose. His deep eyes. His straggly hair. He was the last person she would have come to for comfort, but now that she had spent more time with him, she knew that he was the only person who could teach her. He was where she needed to be; certain, cunning, and clever. She needed to be like that to. So that she could write her own book like he was, rather than following the instructions of everyone else.

"How long?" she managed to get out eventually. "How long is after a while?"

"Depends. People are different. Time is different to people. To me, it was too short. I became unfeeling too quickly. I didn't care anymore. For others, they feel much longer than I. They can bear the pain. I ran away."

"Why did you run away?"

"Because it was easier than facing it. It was easier to pretend. If it isn't scary, you can't be afraid of it. If it isn't hurt, you can't feel sorry for it," Snape shrugged his shoulders, his rested head tilting slightly to the side with the movement.

"What if you can't run away? What if you can't pretend?" Ginny's voice was still thick with tears, although the flow had stopped.

"No one can run away forever. And the truth will come out in the end. It's just a way with dealing with something later rather than now. Be strong in front of your enemies, and they will fear you. Be weak in front of yourself, and you will know yourself."

"I don't understand."

Severus stood up and folded his arms. Looking down his nose at Ginny he said, "You're not supposed to."

Ginny stood up and almost fell back to her chair. Her knees were shaking too much to hold her up. Her very flesh was reacting to the fear of the future. She was supposed to be _strong_! She was supposed to be _brave_! She was a Gryffindor for crying out loud! She wasn't supposed to fall all over the place just because of the uncertainty of the future!

Ginny realised why she was still standing; Professor Snape was holding her up. The closeness of him to her...she could smell the spices on his fingers, hear his staggered breathing as he shifted her weight onto her feet again...the closeness was too much. The ache in her grew. The concern shifted to worry. The worry morphed into fear. And then the fear, it did something so strange. Ginny, through her concern and worry and fear for the life of this man, turned herself into Snape's arms and clung to him. He still held her up and she could feel him shift to accommodate both of their weights, but he was solid and there and whole and...alive. She could hear the beat of his heart solid and clear under his robe. She could feel the pulse of it through his strong arms holding her up. He was the very essence of living. Fighting for what he believed in even though he had died many years ago. He was a man living on the edge. Living for the moment of his true death. And she knew that in that moment; Snape was waiting for the day that he would die. Waiting for it, and wanting it.

And that thought made her cling to him all the harder, and the tears that she had been suppressing the whole time came tumbling from her eyes only to be absorbed by his dark robe. How much could she cry for this man? How much could she cry for all the men in her life? How much could she cry for her loved ones? How much? How much?

"Crying won't help anything," Severus said eventually.

Ginny didn't remove her face from his chest, but the sobs slowly eased and the tears soon stopped.

"Tears can't do anything. They can't fix anything. They only allow you the priveledge of selfpity."

"Priveledge?" Ginny's voice cracked.

"Some of us are not even allowed that."

Ginny was again assaulted by that sadness, but she stifled it quickly before it could take over.

"What else can some of us do if not cry?"

"You can ready yourself. Ginny, look at me," and he had to force her face off of his chest and raise her chin to make her look into his eyes. "This is war," he shrugged at the statement. "There is nothing we can do to stop it from happening, but we can help make it end faster. Every bit helps. Right now, you and your classmates are powerless. You have been given a grace period. It is a blessing. Learn as much as possible during this time, and then, one day when everyone fights, you will be able to fight too."

Ginny wanted more than that. She wanted to reassure him too...but how? She was a child in his eyes, she could see it staring back at her. And what else was she really? That was all she was: a child.

But Ginny obviously didn't know how to read Snape properly yet. Or maybe he just knew what she needed, like the Room of Requirement always did. Because he lowered his head slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.

As he came closer, Ginny couldn't look any more. She closed her eyes. She wanted him to make her feel better. She wanted him to stop the ache of worry in her heart. She wanted him to end it all. To take away everything. Every thought. Every emotion. Just to leave her with her own head. Even for just a moment. All that she needed right now was him.

She felt his face brush next to hers and his lips next to her ear.

"You will become strong, Miss Weasley. You have a gift given to all Weasleys; the stubbornness of Gryffindor courage. I cannot help you all the time. You must learn to help yourself."

And then there was blissful nothingness as his lips rested with barely a touch on her forehead. And Ginny thought clearly; if it weren't for Harry, she would be in love with a man like Severus.

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**(A/N: And so this is where Ginny's real turmoil begins. This whole time she's been using Severus for her own selfish needs. And now...she is experiencing something different...So let me know what you think! Soon to come; another Map, more lessons, Dumbledore and Voldemort, and Trelawney's dismissal.** _Wonderwhiterabbit hopping off**)**_


	19. Chapter 19  An Itch

**(A/N: _Ah! So once again a very long chapter! I am on holiday! Therefore, as treat to myself and to my dearest readers, I have written this chapter; "An Itch", no reference to Witch or anything that rhymes thereto. So I know that I said that there would be Trelawney in the future, and there will be, but not quite yet. Actually I found a bit of a mistake in my story *cry! So the next chapter will be to remedy that mistake. Otherwise, enjoy the chapter! _**_Wonderwhiterabbit hopping off!_)

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**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 19: An Itch

Snape stared at his single student, scribbling down notes faster than Hermione Granger. He didn't think he'd ever had a student so eager to learn something. Her eagerness matched that of his own when he was young and hungry for knowledge. Now, he wished he knew nothing of the world and what it was comprised of.

There was too much anger and hate and bitterness in the world, and the longer he lived, the more he was consumed by it. But here he was, in a room made completely to answer his needs, with a girl who mirrored his younger self, and he didn't want to change a thing.

"Now, to move onto our next stage in these lessons, I will first re-explain the fundamentals. I have explained what a Link is, that it is tangible and real and that its power is derived from that of the Receiver. I have also explained ways for the Holder to protect themselves from Legilimency. One way is for the Link never to be made. For this, eye contact must be avoided at all costs as well as any form of strong emotions. I have also explained about Reversal, whereby the initial point of contact of the Link is not strong enough to stun the Recipient, while at the same time leaving the Holder momentarily off-guard, thus allowing the Recipient to travel back across the Link into the Holder's mind and take over the link. This is also called a Switch since the places of Receiver and Holder are, as I'm sure is obvious, _switched_. I have also explained the act of a Split, as well as the negatives and positives thereof. Now we will use these fundamentals to explore a few more options that a Holder may have to either control the thoughts travelling across the Link or protect parts of one's mind from the Receiver.

"Here we assume that the Receiver has managed to form a decent enough Link – one that is strong enough to momentarily stun the Holder to allow time for recovery of the Receiver and for adequate entrance into the Holder's mind. Once this has happened, the Holder will experience as much power as the Receiver deems is necessary to put the Holder into a state of submission. If, and only if, the Receiver is using their full power and this power feels, to the Holder, to be small, then the Holder can force the Receiver out of their minds. Are you with me, Miss Weasley?"

"Yes Sir, I'm in the same class as you and therefore with you," Ginny said as her hand continued to scribble notes, trying desperately to follow. Snape allowed a small sneer to grace the smallest corner of his lip. She was annoyed that he had interrupted himself. What a thought. He should remember to do it more often just because it annoyed her so.

"I am not undermining your intelligence, Miss Weasley. In fact, I think some would say that I am over confident in your intellectual abilities."

Ginny grit her teeth hard, trying not to let the words come out that so desperately wanted to.

"You think this is all I've got?" she whispered despite her efforts. "That this is all I can do? Try me! Professor, I don't want a chance. A chance means that you can screw it up. I'm asking for you to try me, and if I fail then toss me in the rubbish like you would a bad piece of parchment. Because then you're right. Then I'm really not 'intellectual' at all."

Snape stared hard at Ginny Weasley. Her head had not lifted from her paper once, her hand had not faltered for a second, and her eyes had continued to travel the page following her own written words. Maybe there was hope for her yet. But he had to push her.

"Miss Weasley, I do not think I would want you in my waste paper bin. Trash should stay where it belongs."

Ginny froze. Her eyes, her hand, her head. Everything was deadly still. Just her hair floated about her face in a non-existent breeze.

"Then I will have to prove to you that I am not trash."

"NO!" Snape strode the few meters between them in three long strides and slammed his hand over her paper. The ink bottle on the corner of the desk jumped with the impact and landed back on the table with a twirl of its round edge. There was silence as the bottle spun faster as it flattened out until it finally rested with a slosh of ink running down its edge. Ginny was finally looking up into Snape's angry eyes.

"No?" she asked.

"No," agreed Snape. "No, you must not prove this to _me_. You are doing this to prove it to _yourself_. You don't believe in yourself Miss Weasley. That, above all else, is the key to your mind. To _believe_ that you can do it. That you can overpower the other person. The moment your mind falters. The moment one tiny thought of despair enters your mind, will be the moment that you fall. A thought is like a seed. It can be planted there by many means, most commonly by ourselves. And once there, it grows and spreads and its roots crack through our minds into every part of it until your mind is the thought and the thought is real. Do not let that seed be planted there by others. And, more importantly, do not let it be planted there by yourself."

Ginny gulped. Professor Snape sounded kind of scary.

"Yes, Sir."

"Now, back to the section at hand. Force. It is the most common way to repel someone from your mind. In fact, it is the original response that the body has when it feels the power of a Link," Professor Snape removed his hand from Ginny's parchment and placed it neatly with his other behind his back. He talked while he walked back to his position next to the blackboard and resumed his teaching stance. Ginny picked up her quill once more, dipped it into the ink pot, and began scribbling once again, looking up every now and again to stare at Professor Snape in renewed awe.

"Force, although common and the body's natural defence, must be controlled. The body will automatically _feel_ the intent of the Link; the memory that the Link is searching for. Once this has been detected, it will want to, just as automatically, give up the memory that the link is searching for. This must be controlled. A memory must not just _be given up_, it must be fought for. In this way, the Holder can gauge more from the intent of the Recipient. _What does this person want with this memory_ is an important question to answer, so that one can formulate a plan afterwards to counteract the newly gained knowledge of their enemy. Force also refers to when one purposefully forces certain of their thoughts through. This can be done by solely thinking of one aspect. Often, the image of a strong and sturdy wall is used, and it will then be up to the Receiver to break through this barricade before the Link can reach the memory. Also used to good effect is music. This both creates a barrier to the Recipient as well as confuses the Link as music creates multiple images through both its words, rhythm and melody. Using force is a contest of wills, and this is why belief in oneself is very important. If, however, the Recipient is not concerned with a single memory, but is searching through another's mind on the off-chance of finding something, it is very easy for them to identify hidden thoughts and memories through the barricades that the Holder will automatically put up to protect those hidden thoughts or memories. The secret of Force, is to not use anything at all. It is to stop oneself of thinking completely. To clear one's mind of all thoughts and emotions and to leave one blank. This way, the Recipient can roam the Holder's mind as much as they like, and never find anything. This is the ultimate Force as it not only forces oneself into thinking nothing, but also forces the Recipient into believing that there is nothing to find. This will make the Recipient try harder, increasing the power that they put into the Link, and will eventually result in the Recipient breaking the Link. By using Force, the Holder too can break the Link and push the Recipient out of their mind. If the Link is broken, the Recipient has little option but to withdraw. If they do not withdraw, but the Link breaks, the part of the Link still connected to the Holder will stay there, and the Recipient would lose a part of their mind. But it takes energy to break a Link. Normally, a Recipient would rather withdraw the Link than break it."

Ginny scribbled furiously as she tried to grasp this new concept of Force. But using nothing as a force was not something that she could get her mind around easily.

"Professor, how does one empty their minds?" she asked.

"You simply think of nothing."

"How do you do that? What is nothing?"

"Miss Weasley, when I touch you, what do you feel?"

Dawning comprehension crept over Ginny's face.

"I feel nothing," she said.

"How do you know that you are feeling nothing?"

"Because my mind is my own. My body is my own. I am in full control."

"In a sense," said Snape, picking at the skin along his nail with his thumb in a bored fashion, as if anyone one step above daft should know this, "you feel calm. You have a sense of peace within you. If there is nothing in your head, there is nothing to think about."

"So I just have to imagine that sense of calmness and then my mind will be emptied?" asked Ginny. "Is it really that easy?"

"Easy? Miss Weasley, just because you can experience my power when you touch me, does not mean that you will experience it when you _imagine_ me touching you. It takes much strength and willpower to calm one's thoughts. No emotions can intrude. No thoughts can enter and build in your mind. Nothing, Miss Weasley, is hardly easy."

"But I can do it, right?" she asked, almost pleading.

"If you want to, you can. But you will have to practice. Every night before bed, clear your mind of all thought. Empty your head. Become calm."

Ginny fidgeted with her quill, looking at it hard as if asking it the question forming in her head would give her the answer she needed. Eventually she looked up at Professor Snape, her expression never changing from the hard glare she had given her quill, and asked, "How do you do it, sir? How do you clear your mind of all thoughts?"

Snape, caught slightly off guard by the question, had to think for a moment. How did he do it? He wasn't too sure – he just did. But telling the girl that would not satisfy her, and he could not upset her, not now that their relationship was just beginning to bloom into this fragile friendship that he had worked so hard to form. So what could he tell her? That his cold anger and fury and bitterness was too much to bear, thus leaving him no choice but to banish the thoughts away from him? That he could not face himself and so he ran away from the very things inside of his head? That his actions were so cruel that they rendered his mind numb whether it wanted to be like that or not? That thinking of nothing was the only way to keep the demons at bay? No, he could not say any of that to her. He needed her to think that he cared. He did, in a small way, care for the girl. But he needed her to think that he really cared. So how to tell her? What did he do when he was first starting out with his own Occlumensy learning. He had learnt from a book, having had no one care enough to teach him. The book had been barely useful, but it had started him off with a good clue: "A mantra," he said eventually. "A few sets of words that put me into a calming state. They are born from a memory. Thinking first of that memory, then of the mantra, puts me into a state of serenity where nothing can touch me because I am nothing."

"What about the memory that you use? Isn't that thinking of something?"

"Eventually you will not have to recall that memory. All you will have to do is repeat the mantra to yourself and the feeling associated with it will flood through you."

"How does a person make a mantra?" asked Ginny, sitting up straight.

"Ah, I see a chance for a homework assignment," Snape's mouth tilted sideways in half a sneer and half a smile. "For our next lesson, find out what a Mantra is, and make one of your own. Have a few ready so that I can test them on you."

"Test them on me, Sir?" asked Ginny with more than a little wobble in her voice.

"Yes, Miss Weasley. For our next lesson, we will begin the more practical side of these classes. Be prepared to block your mind from me."

"B-but, Professor Snape, we haven't finished all of the theory yet!" the fear leaked through both her voice and her eyes.

"No," agreed Professor Snape slowly with an amused gleam in his eyes. "We have not yet finished all of the theory. But the other options to save the Holder from the Receiver will not be here for you in this classroom. It will be up to you to choose of those methods that I have already taught you."

Ginny nodded her head stiffly. Once more they both squinted suddenly as the light from the rising sun hit the blackboard and they had to shield their eyes. As per usual, their lesson was done. Ginny gathered her notes together and walked slowly towards the door thinking of Force and nothing and mantras.

She turned quickly before leaving and asked, "Sir, are we friends?"

Snape blinked twice before answering, "If you want us to be."

She nodded her head again before disappearing behind the door.

Snape watched as the door closed behind her and sighed. It was more difficult "being nice" than he had expected. His reflexes were to automatically snap at people. He hadn't realised how much of a habit it had become for him, nor had he realised how much some of his words affected people. Should he try being nicer to people?

No. What was the point? If everyone was "nice" then they wouldn't have the "good" people that the world needed. He smirked to himself. They wouldn't have the "bad" people in the world either.

No. He would not be nicer. He would keep the students at the ready. On their toes. Readying them with the knowledge and practical experience that they needed. He would do that for them even if they hated him for it.

Still smirking, Snape walked quietly to the window that looked out over the school grounds. The rising sun looked golden as it spread its rays across the misty lake and grass. Somewhere near the forest, Snape could hear Fang barking loudly. It was an unpleasant sound that marred the beautiful scene. Snape didn't like that. Why was that dog barking so darn loudly at such an ungodly hour?

Berating himself for his already long striding footsteps, Snape gave no second glance as his makeshift classroom disappeared behind him, and as he strode purposefully down through the castle and along the grounds heading for Hagrid's Hut.

. . .

Fang whimpered and scattered the leaves underfoot as the mangy mutt scrabbled to hide behind Snape's skinny legs.

After having walked all the way to Hagrid's Hut and then spent ten of his precious minutes banging on the large man's front door, Snape had been less than pleased to be answered by no one. But then Fang had spotted him, bounded up to him eagerly and slobbered more than normal over his hand. Snape knew the dog well. Fang had a story of his own, and not a pretty one either until he was adopted by Hagrid. And as such, Snape knew that something was troubling the dog. He had said as much to the dog – not knowing if Fang was catching anything that he was saying through the whimpers and whines – but then Fang had quickly padded his way to the forest. Snape had followed.

And now he was here. Oh how did he get himself into these stupid predicaments?

"GRAWP!" Hagrid yelled at his half-brother. "THA'S NOT WHAT YOU DO WITH CENTAURS! PUT HIM DOWN!"

"Hagrid," hissed Snape with as much venom in his voice as possible, "you do know what the herd will do when they hear about this event."

"Yeah, Professor!" yelled Hagrid over his shoulder, still trying to grab for the centaur held high by Grawp. Grawp gave a hearty chuckle that sent vibrations through the ground, and held the centaur yet higher. Fang, still hiding behind Snape's legs, gave a whimper of fear.

"Why, Hagrid, is your brother _playing_ with a centaur?"

"Well, ye see, Professor," panted Hagrid as he now tried to shimmy up a tree to reach the new height of the dangling centaur, "I told ye he was bored! 'N then when this guy showed up, Grawpy just wanted to play!" He leant over too far, reaching with all his might for the centaur, and just when it looked like he had him, Hagrid's large hand grasped thin air and he toppled from the tree, landing hard on his face with an unpleasant moan. Snape covered his face with his hand and shook his head at the dim-witted fool's attempts to get the centaur down. The centaur, in the mean time, must have fainted because he could no longer hear the high squeals and death threats that it had been issuing the whole time while in Grawp's large hand.

"Alright Hagrid," Snape sighed as he stepped forward, his hand withdrawing his wand from his sleeve in a flurry of motion. "Please step back."

Hagrid hurried to obey and scrambled back to the edge of the clearing. Grawp, momentarily confused by his new toy's lack of responses whenever he squeezed it, was staring hard at the centaur and applying more and more pressure around the creature's midriff.

Snape lazily lifted his wand at a nearby fallen tree and sent an unspoken spell towards it that made it shine a sudden red, and then at the centaur which went a bright blue. Using his arms in a circular motion, the chosen red log lifted to the same height of the blue centaur and with a _pop_ that sounded similar to the sound of a person disapparating, the log was all of a sudden in Grawp's hands and the centaur was floating in the air. Snape lowered the centaur carefully to the ground as Grawp yelled in fury as he realised what was in his hands. Grawp threw the log in a firm over-arm bowl, and Snape heard as it landed far off in the distance of the forest. Birds flew up in the air in alarm and squawked, but Snape had more pressing matters at hand now; he had an angry Giant to watch out for.

"Hagrid," Snape said calmly as Grawp roared in his anger, "I think you will have to take this centaur back to your Hut, and then wait for me there. Do not let the centaur leave until I arrive, do you hear me, Hagrid?"

"Alrigh' Professor!" agreed Hagrid, giving shifty glances from the scrawny man to Grawp. But he didn't say anything more as he ran for the centaur and lifted it firmly over his shoulders, pausing only once more to look back at the Professor before he disappeared out of the clearing, Fang bounding after him with loud whimpers.

The only two left in the clearing was Snape and the roaring Grawp. Snape could feel his temple start to pulse as his adrenaline began building in his chest. It had been a while since he had felt this type of rush. Both Dumbledore and The Dark Lord had been keeping him in the dark, not allowing him to venture further than the walls of Hogwarts. But that was ok. The walls of Hogwarts were as far as he needed to be to catch his thrills.

He turned his wand on himself.

"_Engorgio_" he said and watched as his whole body and attire grew to the size of Hagrid. He smirked as he looked down at his large hands, and pulled them into a hard fist. But being larger was not going to help him. He needed something more than that.

Grawp had stopped his roaring to watch as the pipsqueak man before him grew larger. His lopsided mouth stayed open in confusion as the man again pointed his wand at himself.

"_Corpus argentumini munimentum_" he said loudly, allowing a sudden shoot of hot air to travel over his whole body. He flexed his hands once more and was pleased to see that the spell had not altered his movement. The sun caught him at an angle and his skin shone a silver sheen. His body was covered in a layer of silver protection.

The light fascinated the giant, but at the same time the giant didn't like the wand. The wand was bad. The wand made bad things happen.

Snape seemed to recognise the animosity that Grawp held towards his wand as he placed the small implement carefully on the edge of the clearing. This partially calmed Grawp down, but now he was eying Snape with a mixture of confusion and excitement. He could tell that Snape had something planned with him.

Indeed, Snape turned to the giant and stared hard at him. He didn't know Giant, although he knew more than a few swear words in the language – not difficult considering they were mostly roars and grunts – but he did know a language that all living things understood; and so Severus Snape stared hard at Grawp and with as much power as he had, he shouted "_Legilimens_!"

He was inside the Giant's head before Grawp knew what was happening. But reading the mind of a giant was not like that of a human. He had to act fast before he was Forced out. Instead of drawing memories from Grawp, Snape threw his idea into Grawp's mind, thoughts and ideas swirling across his Link to place them firmly into the forefront of the giant's head. Grawp stopped struggling against the link as the ideas came to him, and his happiness leaked through back to Snape. So, the Giant liked the idea. But then Grawp threw an image towards Snape; Hagrid. As well as the image of Hagrid, Snape had the impression of distaste. He understood; Grawp did not want Hagrid to know about their arrangement. Agreement oozed between the Link from both sides before Snape easily withdrew from Grawp's mind with closed eyes.

Well that had been an experience, he thought to himself. But then he wondered what the toll would be on his body, and sure enough as soon as he opened his eyes, the world swam before him. It had taken much more energy to keep the Link with the giant than it did with normal people. He wasn't pushing himself enough. Everyone else was out in the world training and learning, and he had grown stale with only students around him for stimulation. Perhaps this new relationship that he had formed with the giant would be a symbiotic one.

Grawp roared and Snape was brought back to focus quickly as the giant took to all four of his feet. Snape wasn't too sure what he had just agreed to, but he knew that he didn't have time to wonder about that now. He too fell to his hands and knees, his enlarged body taught and ready to react.

First, he would gauge the levels of his new found hobby. Speed. Strength. Agility. Those were the three that he needed to work on the most. Grawp already had Fighter blood in him. That meant that his fighting style was vicious and automatic, no thought put into it. But fighting against something bigger than Grawp would mean that he needed to be stronger. He needed to be faster. He needed to react quicker. And so that was what Snape would work on. He would show Grawp how he should react. Grawp must learn from what Snape did and then mirror that.

But that would have to wait until he knew what level Grawp was on.

Grawp began to pull himself backwards like a diver awaiting the gun. The forest was deathly quiet. Snape could think only of his rushing heart and how everything before him had taken on a red tinge. He knew that he was weaker than the giant. But that was why he had put the _corpus argentumini munimentum_ spell over his body. Now even if he got hit, it was the spell that would take the damage and not him. But that spell took a lot of energy to make, adding to his weariness after using _Legilimens_ on the giant as well. But that didn't matter. The giant would not kill him. He hoped.

A bird chirped.

As if this was the sign Grawp had been waiting for, he sprang forwards, digging his hind legs into the ground and pushing against the dents that he had made. Snape had been ready for it. He threw himself sideways and into a roll that brought him up where Grawp had just left. Grawp, unable to control his momentum, crashed into the trees, taking two down with him. Grawp roared in his anger and shook his head free of leaves as he turned and faced Snape again.

He pushed himself once more from the ground and flew upwards into the air. His shadow covered Snape for just a second before Grawp's weight brought him crashing down to the ground. Once more, Snape rolled away and was up on his feet and ready again. Again Grawp roared his fury.

"You have to watch my movements!" yelled Snape. Working with dunderheads all the time was too much for him! "Do not react until you see me move!"

Grawp stared at him in confusion, but he did not do anything. He stood rooted to the spot, staring hard at Snape. Snape took this to mean that the giant understood some of what he was saying. _Small words_, he told himself with a smirk.

And then he moved. And Grawp moved. And in two strides they were locked in a fierce struggle. Snape knew he had no possible way of winning, but he had to measure Grawp's strength, so he grit his teeth. He tasted blood in his mouth. He pushed harder with his arms and realised that all of the pressure was towards his upper half. Using his leg he twisted it around the giant's huge trunk-like leg and hit the spot behind Grawp's knee. The leg gave way and Grawp tumbled to the ground, releasing Snape as he did so. Snape jumped backwards, and watched as the giant grumpily got to his feet.

Amused, Snape watched the sulking giant.

But he was tired in any case. It was not every day that a man faced off against a giant. So he stared hard at Grawp again and again shouted, "_Legilimens_!" and entered Grawp's mind. He pushed his weariness through to the giant and let the giant know that he was pleased with the results of the battle. Struggling against his tired mind, he also pushed along the Link his idea: training the giant to fight cleverly. He was amused as he felt the giant at first resist the idea after his first failed attempt to overcome a man, but then Snape assured him that he would not be putting himself into that much danger again. Instead, he showed the image of Grawp battling against large tree trunks that had been magicked to fight him by Snape. Grawp didn't like that idea either, but preferred it to fighting with Snape.

Snape quickly withdrew his mind from Grawp's, his mind as tired as his body. He walked carefully to his wand and used it to release the two spells that he had put on himself. He felt a cold shiver as the silver protection lifted itself from his body and disappeared into a thin mist. He looked to his hand, once again its normal size, and hated that it was shaking. Yes, he was weak. Three spells and he was already nearing his limit.

To his disgust, Grawp patted him on his head, forcing his knees to buckle. He looked up in distaste at the giant who was laughing at him as he kneeled on the ground, but shook his head. He had beaten the giant.

"Next week I will come again," Snape said loudly to Grawp, wondering if Grawp at all understood what Snape was saying.

Grawp nodded his large stupid head and lay down. Snape raised an eyebrow as he felt a large puff of hot air hit him; Grawp was already asleep!

He sighed and got to his feet and wearily headed back towards Hagrid's Hut.

. . .

Once again, how the hell did he get himself into these predicaments?

It was one of the side-effects of using _corpus argentumini munimentum_. But he hadn't realised that it would be this bad. It must have been because he had enlarged his body before putting the spell over him. But why it was only reacting now was beyond him, it was supposed to be an immediate effect and then last barely a few minutes. This was much more than a few minutes!

He had gone back to Hagrid's Hut, erased the centaur's memory of the unfortunate event with Grawp and then made his way back to his dark dungeon classroom. He had felt that if he ate anything, he would most likely throw it right up, that was how tired he had been. And so he had slumped into his teaching chair behind his desk, and fallen asleep.

But now he was awake.

And now he had a noisy class awaiting him outside.

And now the darn side-effect of that stupid body protection charm was taking its toll on his body.

He was itchy. Everywhere. All over. On every part of him. Hell, even the insides of his ears were itching!

But he had to appear calm. He had to face the class, give them their task, and then run away very quickly! But that was easier said than done. He had to stop twitching!

He calmed his mind and focused on breathing. The itch was still there. Still everywhere. But he could concentrate so long as no one interrupted him. He had to do this smoothly then.

"Enter!" he snapped at the door and watched as the fourth years traipsed in. "No dawdling!" he said quickly again as he felt his toe throb with the need to be scratched. He stood hard onto his own foot, thankful for the desk separating him from his students.

"Page eighty-two! Read the theory! Memorise the ingredients and the process! Next lesson you will have to brew this potion without the use of your book!" he snapped as quickly as he could as he restrained himself from scratching his thigh. "No questions? Good!" but he was wrong. He scolded himself for thinking otherwise. Of course there was a question. Ginny Weasely, sitting at her customary seat along the wall, had picked up her hand.

"Sir," she said boldly, and Snape couldn't help but think, _please no, Ginny. Not now. Not in front of everyone. I _have to_ get out of this classroom. I can't take it anymore. Please Ginny! Please!_ But Ginny didn't catch anything through the dark eyes of the potion's master. All that she saw was the skilled blank face that she always did, and the dark black eyes that pierced as per usual. "You said that today we would be doing th – " Snape had to stop her. He honestly couldn't take it anymore. His skin was burning the itchiness of it was too much. And hell freeze over if he was going to start twitching in front of a bunch of fourth years!

"I know what I said Miss Weasley!" he snapped. "But people change their minds! I just did!" and with a flurry of robes he strode to his quarters and locked himself in.

Firmly behind the closed door, Snape began rummaging around his quarters looking for the ingredients he needed.

Back in the classroom, Ginny stared at the closed door, Snape's words running through her head. "_But people change their minds! I just did!_"

* * *

**(A/N: _And so? I'm a little bit, er, concerned (if that's the right word to use,) about Snape wrestling with a Giant. But Grawp is supposed to be small and if Hagrid can control him relatively well then I'm sure that Snape in all of his amazingness can too! But let me know! To all of my reviewers, you're awesome! I always reply if you let me (ie: PM must be activated.) Can't wait for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2! _**_Wonderwhiterabbit hopping off)_


	20. Chapter 20  Tingling Sensations

**(A/N: _Hi all! Wow! How many times have you watched HP7part2? And how did you like that sound track? I wants it! Ok, so, before people bite my head off, I am going to apologise profusely for not having updated sooner - I do have a good excuse: I was in Canada! It was awesome! But now I'm back and writing again and raring to go! Enjoy the new chapter! Wonderwhiterabbit hopping off)_**

* * *

**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 20: Tingling Sensations

Snape sat silently in Dumbledore's office, staring intently forwards, not daring to blink. Directly opposite him, perched on one leg on Dumbledore's dark wooden table top, his head tilted slightly to the side, was Fawkes, his one beady eye focused only on Snape. Snape began to growl quietly as he felt the bottom of his eyes begin to burn, but still he did not blink. Fawkes cooed in apparent amusement at the Potions Master and tilted his head even further to the side.

"I know why you are doing that, bird!" growled Snape deep in his throat. "You tilt your head to allow the air a different point of contact on your eye, thus elongating your apparent stamina. But all that proves to me is that I am winning!"

The door to the office opened. Still Snape was staring intently at the bird who had now tilted his head further around so that he was almost looking at Snape upside down.

The person at the door sighed and closed the door behind with a soft _click_. They then made their way to the space between the desk and the chair that Snape was sitting in.

"Severus, you do know that you are having a staring competition with a bird..._again_."

"And you, Albus, should know that I do not take lightly to being beaten, even by a bird. And, on that point," Snape shifted on his chair slightly and allowed the smallest of sneers to grace his features as the bird tried to rotate his head another inch round, "this bird probably has more intelligence than half of my first years put together." Fawkes, obviously indignant at such a small notice of his intellectual abilities, tried to tilt his head one tiny bit more – one tiny bit too much more. His head now firmly upside down, he teetered for a moment on his single raised leg, spread his wings suddenly but not soon enough before he had to touch down his second leg and _blink_. Fawkes blinked again. And then again.

"Aha!" cried Snape, jumping to his feet. "And, as the victor, I take my prize." He pulled from his pocket a tiny vile that he put to the bird's still blinking eye. The absence of blinks had dried the black eye, and with every blink, a large tear drop was forming on the bottom lid. Crooning, as if in a sigh of acceptance, Fawkes gave a hard blink and the tear fell into the open vile.

"So what did Fawkes get from you when he beat you the first time?" asked Dumbledore who had watched the staring contest in much amusement, but was now seated in his large headmaster's chair with his fingers tented and staring at Snape with blue shimmering eyes.

"That would be between the bird and I," said Snape whilst pocketing the single Phoenix tear.

"Severus," began Dumbledore in a warning tone.

"He chose, not me. What he does with it, I'll never know," Severus actually rolled his eyes and caught himself just before his mouth began to pout. Pouting wasn't something he had done for almost thirty years and just because his father wasn't around to beat it out of him anymore didn't mean that he would start now.

"What he does with what?"

"A lock of my hair."

"Ah, I see. Yes."

Fawkes gave a soft coo and fluttered to his perch where he settled down for a nap. Snape, frowning, looked from the Phoenix to Dumbledore and back again.

"What do you know that I don't?" he asked Dumbledore, although his gaze was still on the Phoenix.

"I would suppose I know quite a lot that you don't, Severus, but I seldom brag about my knowledge."

"That's not what I – oh never mind. I daresay I'll learn sooner than I like."

"Now, why the visit at such an interesting hour, Severus? I'm sure, as entertaining as a good staring contest may be, it was not the reason that brought you to my office?"

"I have been given a new mission," Snape said slowly, all of a sudden his face blank of emotion and his black eyes only for Dumbledore. Dumbledore merely nodded his head for Snape to proceed. "I informed you, a few weeks ago now, that I was summoned to the Garden of Freedom. The Dark Lord, I suppose after the incident where he could not breach my mind in terms of Miss Weasley, is giving him and I a bit of reasonable space. But that does not mean he is giving me a break; my new mission begins this Friday." Still, Dumbledore merely nodded his head for Snape to proceed. "While in the Garden of Freedom, I met first with Avery and then with Rookwood. I advised Avery to have his position moved so as to clean his reputation. He appealed to Malfoy. Malfoy has accepted him into his Action Ranks."

Now Dumbledore raised a finger in question, "And does Voldemort" Snape suppressed a shudder at the name, "know about this change in position?"

"Yes," said Snape simply. "He must also know that it was I who suggested it, so he cannot be that mad – or angry rather, the man is simply and purely insane in general – with me if he is prepared to listen to ideas put forth by others which he knows are mine."

"Alright. That is Avery. What of Rookwood?"

"Rookwood met me directly after Avery left and informed me of a plan. I have to gain entry to, and then proceed to map out, the Department of Mysteries," Snape said this in a rush of whispered breath, trying to hide his beating heart from his own ears.

"So you will be gone the whole weekend, I take it?" asked Dumbledore, still as serene as ever.

"And the weekend after if the process takes that long."

"Has Voldemort informed you," and now Dumbledore's tone changed to something a bit more serious than before, "of what you will be looking out for while you are in the Department?"

"Not yet," admitted Snape, "Although Rookwood says that we will be briefed shortly before we enter the Department."

"Then," and now, much to Snape's alarm although he hardly showed it, Dumbledore's voice was sombre and very, very serious. Even his eyes had grown harder and the shimmer in them had all but disappeared. "Then I think that I need to tell you now, so that you will not have to learn it first time from him. I dare say that you would not be able to hide your emotion when he tells you, so it be best that you get it over and done with now."

"I do not understand," Snape blinked a few times and allowed a frown to crease his forehead.

"You do not know why we guard the way to the Department of Mysteries," Dumbledore said simply. "You do not know what Lord Voldemort wants inside of the Department. Before I tell you, know only this; I hid this from you to protect you as much as the boy."

The boy. Dumbledore had mentioned Harry Potter. That could only mean one thing; Lily. Whatever was in the Department of Mysteries that Voldemort wanted so badly, it had something to do with Lily. Snape found that his breath had stuck in his throat and he couldn't remember whether he was breathing in or breathing out. His hands clenched automatically by his side as they lined with sudden sweat. And still his mask was in place. Still his face was featureless.

"I will say this as fast as possible," explained Dumbledore in a very slow way that was opposite to his words, "as one would do when pulling off a band aid to show to the world their wound." Snape's lip twitched in annoyance. "Inside the Department of Mysteries is a room called the Hall of Prophecies. In there lies the Prophecy made by Sybil Trelawney about sixteen years ago. The contents of which refers to Lord Voldemort as well as to Harry Potter."

"The Prophecy," spoke Snape in barely a whisper, "of which only the beginning was reported to the Dark Lord. The Prophecy that was told to the Dark Lord in its incompletion, and which spurred the Dark Lord into action against a family that had evaded him three times as well as had a son born at the end of July."

"Yes, that Prophecy."

There was silence. The portraits on the wall were staring intently at the scene playing before them, one even had his hand in his mouth in fear as he watched Snape's face turn pale and his hands clench the arms of the chair so hard that his knuckles turned white. There was a loud crunch as the two arms on either side of the chair splintered within Snape's clutch.

He stared at his hands, broken pieces of wood still between his fingers but no longer connected to the chair. Slowly he opened his fingers, and watched as the pieces of wood fell to the floor with a soft clatter. He turned his hands to himself, blood beading along the small incisions the splinters had made on his palms.

"The Prophecy that sent Lily Evans and her family to the grave."

"Severus..." but Dumbledore's tone was enough to set Snape over the edge.

Snape, in one fluid motion, stood up and threw the already broken chair into the wall, as if propelled there by magical strength. He fell to his knees as hard as he could, wishing that the ground would hit him back, and keeled, his hands supporting him as uncontrollable shakes racked his body. A sound like a plug pulling at water filled the room. _What a horrible noise_, Snape thought, and then realised that it was him. He was sobbing. Crying so hard that he could only gasp for air.

"Will this torture never leave me!" he yelled to the ground, his fist slamming down in an effort to cause himself pain – anything to take his mind off of the actions that he had done in the past. He raised his hand one more time, intending to bring it down again, but it was yanked upwards suddenly.

He looked upwards through his bedraggled curtain of black hair to see Dumbledore standing over him, his hand firmly holding Snape's in place.

"You hurt yourself enough, Severus. Don't you think?"

"Not enough. It will never be enough."

He lifted himself from the floor where two red hand prints were left gleaming up at him. His hands were bloodied. He would never be able to wipe them clean.

Dumbledore turned to his demolished chair.

"Severus, I really did like that one. Perhaps next time you could vent your emotions onto my cupboard instead? I could use a larger one so an excuse would be well appreciated."

"I'll remember that the next time I happen to find out I have to relive my past. Which happens to be quite more often these days."

"I am sorry, Severus. I truly am."

Severus sniffed, still angry at himself for his outburst, but feeling slightly lighter despite himself.

"You were right, Headmaster. Better now than later," he did not wait for Dumbledore's reply. "Now I see why he chose me for the job. He sees this as an opportunity for me to fix my past mistakes. He will undoubtedly expect me to be grateful. I must play my part."

"As you always do, my friend."

"Anything else I should know about?" asked Severus, straightening his robes and not caring that splinters still in his hands caught on his fabric and sent twinges of pain shooting through his palms.

"Actually, I think so, but not quite yet."

Severus, not really bothered by Dumbledore's answer, nodded his head and turned to leave.

"Oh, Severus," added Dumbledore suddenly, "while you are in the Department, don't touch anything." Fawkes cooed his agreement

Snape smirked, not knowing if it was more because of the warmth that he felt at Fawkes's chirp or from the real concern in Dumbledore's voice, before leaving the office and heading to his dark dungeons.

. . .

He had to pack. Dumbledore's words still rung in his ears and he could not sleep. So instead of sleeping, he would pack. Anything to keep his hands busy and his mind away from the impending weekend. He had a few classes the next day and then he had to leave immediately afterwards in any case, so packing now was the logical thing to do. Wait, he also had Miss Weasley the next morning. Seeing her every morning for lessons was, maybe, a little bit over the top. He had said to her that their next lesson would be a practical one. Perhaps he should give her more time to prepare herself. Yes. He would do that. He saw Potter only once a week in any case, and it was more important for the boy to know Occlumence than Ginny. So once a week for her too. No, he knew her, she would complain and it was not as if he could use Potter as an example – to the world Potter was merely taking Remedial Potions on Monday evenings. So twice a week for Miss Weasley. She wouldn't complain too severely about that.

So he sat down at his writing desk and pulled a long green quill towards him as well as some spare parchment.

_Miss Weasley_, he began before allowing his pen to hover above the page. How to continue?

_As our lessons will begin to take a new turn, I find that our frequent meetings must be staggered so as to allow you enough time to practice as well as to recover._

That sounded good so far. Why was this so difficult to write? Why was he explaining himself to her? Surely he should just blurt it out in three lines and be done with it? But Severus Snape ignored his own thoughts and plunged on with his half written letter.

_I have already informed you that my evenings are often full; therefore lessons will continue to be in the early mornings and at the normal meeting place. The new meeting days will be Tuesdays and Thursdays._

He slept in on Mondays, often too tired to do anything else after his hectic weekends away working on other matters. He had missed those lazy mornings just lately because of the classes he had been giving Miss Weasley. He would be grateful to get them back. And on a Thursday he had a free period before his teaching began, so that would allow him enough time to recover before facing the brats.

He paused before contemplating the end of his message. He grabbed another scrap of parchment and wrote, _Looking forward to seeing you_, and stared hard at the words. He liked how they looked and how they sounded, but he did not like what they implied. _Keep well_, was what he wrote next. These words just didn't fit with Snape's hand writing, his slanted harsh letters opposing the soft words. _Be prepared_. Now that looked, sounded and felt right.

So he copied the last two words down onto the end of his letter and signed it _S. S._

Then he tapped the page and it neatly rolled itself up, sealing with a black wax seal that had a delicate snake in the shape of an S embedded in it.

"Eyeri," he said, and immediately handed the scroll in his hands to the house elf that had just appeared, "please give this to Miss Ginny Weasley first thing when she awakes tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir," Eyeri bobbed her head and put the scroll under one arm for safe keeping. "Anything else Eyeri can do for sir?"

"Yes, actually," said Snape as he swished his wand and some clothes and a few books laid themselves out onto his dark bed. "Now that I think of it. I am going away this weekend on business. But I may need some assistance. If I should need you at all, can I rely on you to answer my call?"

Eyeri's eyes shimmered with happy tears and her face was plastered with a grin too big for her face. If it was any human giving such a reaction, Snape would assume they were humouring him, or making fun of him, but he knew that Eyeri's only wish in life was to make things easier for Snape.

"Of course sir! Eyeri will do anything for sir! Eyeri will be listening for sir!" and her ears perked up high to prove her words.

"Thank you Eyeri," Snape nodded his head, "although I must warn you that where I am going there could be possibilities of danger."

"That is why Eyeri is your elf, sir!" squeaked Eyeri indignantly. "Eyeri listens for sir and answers sir no matter where or what. Eyeri is a good elf!"

Snape chuckled deep in his throat.

"Yes, Eyeri, you are a good elf. I hardly ever have to make you punish yourself."

"Just the one time...when Eyeri touched sir's chessboard by accident. Eyeri didn't think the chess men would try to attack. Eyeri is still sorry. Eyeri just wanted to clean the table."

"That is all in the past, Eyeri. Thank you. I must pack now."

Eyeri bowed deeply and _pop_, was gone.

Snape surveyed his bed, now strewn with various items that he might need. Then, with a long stare in mid air, Severus eventually sighed. He waved his wand and a lever appeared where before there was nothing. He pulled the lever and, as if it was there the whole time, a safe fell slowly to his eye level. On the side of the safe was another eye that looked at him suspiciously. The handle along the side of the safe moved and a voice demanded, "Show me your pain!"

Severus dutifully held out his left arm where the serpent and skull tattoo of the Dark Mark crawled clearly over his skin.

"This is my eternal pain," he replied to the safe, whose eye blinked before closing. The door to the safe opened soundlessly.

Severus looked at the items inside the safe carefully, counting each object to make sure no one had broken into it. He wasn't sure if that was possible, but he was not taking any chances. Happy that all was where it should be, he pulled out a large drawstring bag and opened it. Inside were a number of wands. Severus thought he could feel their anger at being kept away from their masters, but he ignored it. Instead he put his hand inside the bag and brought from it a long wand with a crooked tilt at the end. Rookwood's wand.

He did not know what awaited him in the Department of Mysteries, but he was not about to take any chances. He flicked his wand and watched as his clothes, a notepad and automatic-ink quill, a few potions and random ingredients, as well as a bottle of firewhiskey folded up and placed themselves into a small satchel. He added the long wand with the crooked tilt at the end, careful not to touch it for too long; it left his hand feeling as though it were just coming out of pins-and-needles.

To take his mind off of the sensation, Snape stared hard around him, thinking of anything else that he might need. Really, with his wand, he hardly needed anything. The potions were merely a backup plan. He looked around the room, spotting a long quill lying on his desk. He thought of Miss Weasley, waking up and receiving his note. She would not be happy. Thankfully he only had the fourth years much later that day – perhaps her fury would have abated by then.

. . .

As it turns out, Ginny Weasley's temper had only risen throughout the day. She had received the letter and promptly tore it up in her anger. To further her fury, she had seen Cho running up to Harry that day, slipping her hand into his and whispering in his ear something that made him smile a great deal. This had only helped to make her lose her appetite and to miss breakfast. In Transfiguration, the ink pot she was supposed to be transforming into a badger had exploded, leaving ink stains all around Professor McGonagall's classroom. She was forced to stay after class to clean up, thus forcing her to miss yet another meal. And now she was in Potions, glaring at Professor Snape as if she wanted nothing more than to gouge his eyes out with the long wooden spoon in her hands.

"Miss Weasley," drawled Snape, although his sharp eyes had obviously noticed her hostile body language, "you use a spoon to stir with. Although if you are so determined to break the tables in my classroom then do not stop – I very much doubt I will be replacing anything if your choice of implement is a wooden spoon."

This only made Ginny grit her teeth harder, a red blush creeping up her neck and dappling her cheeks in angry spots. She clenched her hand around the spoon all the tighter, trying hard not to throw any insults back at Snape, never mind throw the spoon.

"Miss Weasley! Ten points from Griffindor!"

"Wh-what for?" she demanded. Had she said some of the things in her head aloud?

"Five for not doing your work, and another five for turning half of my _wooden_ spoon to steel!"

Ginny looked down at the spoon, her hand dropping it quickly. It clattered on the table top. _Clattered_. It was no longer all wooden; the handle was a shiny silver. She had done that?

"Well?" demanded Professor Snape. "Do I have to wait till Merlin's rebirth for an apology?"

"You're right, Professor," snapped Ginny. "I'm _so_ sorry, Spoon, for turning you silver."

"Miss Weasley!"

"Professor Snape!"

"I will see you after class!"

She was about to yell again. To give another quick remark. But before she could respond there was a loud popping noise from the other side of the classroom from one of the other student's cauldrons. Snape, his eyes gleaming with anger, gave Ginny one last dirty look before turning and striding to the next culprit.

Snape had taken fifty points from Griffindor before the class was through.

"Class is finished!" he yelled after the last student had handed in their corked potions. "Get out!"

Ginny was heading for the door before, "Not you Miss Weasley." She turned resolutely and looked hard at the floor, determined not to meet Professor Snape's gaze. The last of her classmates left the room and the heavy door swung shut. She was alone with him.

"Come here."

She looked up at him, anger burning through her every fibre, scared that to make a move would unleash her hardly controlled emotions.

"Miss Weasley, I told you to _come here_!"

She forced a leg to move. She took a step. She hadn't exploded yet. She took another step. Still she hadn't exploded but she could feel it building, could feel her anger bubbling just beneath the surface. Another step. Another. She was right in front of him now. She could not hold it in a second longer. She was going to shout. She _was_ going to. He could not stop her. He could not do anything.

She opened her mouth ready to let loose her fury when...but that wasn't fair.

It was just a finger. Not even. It was the tip of his finger. He had simply lifted it and placed it on her forehead. And her anger had disappeared. She felt the nothing that she usually longed for. The wonderful nothing that left her with her own thoughts. But this time she didn't want it. She wanted to yell and scream. She wanted to be angry, for her head to be bombarded from all sides with all of her thoughts, for the chaos inside of her to shine through.

But with him touching her...she could be none of those things she wanted. She could only be practical. And sensible. And mature.

"Are you ready to talk now?" he asked, amused at the struggle he could see behind her eyes. "Because I will not have shouting matches in my classroom."

She dipped her eyes to the ground as he gently lifted his finger off of her head.

"That's not fair. What you did to me. That isn't playing fair."

"Who said anything about fair? If only I could calm more students with barely a touch...although that would mean touching them which I am very much against doing."

"You touch me..." said Ginny softly.

"Yes, but only because we are...friends," he forced the last word out, biting back the sarcasm that belonged in the sentence.

"Who says we are?" demanded Ginny suddenly.

"Aren't we? The last I remember of this conversation, you asked if we were friends. I said if you wanted us to be then yes, we are friends. You nodded your head. A nod, as far as I am aware means 'yes'."

"Or it could merely be an acknowledgement of words. A nod of 'yes I heard you, I'll think about it'."

"Words often mean more than one thing. Seldom have I heard of double meanings on movements."

"So you admit that words can mean more than one thing?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Then what about what you said yesterday?"

"What I said? I say many things."

"In class!" her anger was beginning to rise again. "You let us in, snapped at us all – "

" – when don't I snap at blundering brats?"

"Gave us instructions that were opposite to the ones you had previously given us – "

" – alright I'll admit that is different to what I usually do."

"And then yelled at me when I tried to find out _why_."

"I don't recall yelling at you."

"How's about 'I know what I said, Miss Weasley. But people change their minds. I just did.' Ring a bell?"

Snape stared at her. Had she used those words in a different context? And then, those words combined with his letter this morning...it must seem as if he didn't want to be around her any more.

An emotion seized him. It gripped him tightly in his chest and made his heart beat faster. He didn't know the name of this emotion. He couldn't remember having felt it although he knew, sometime long ago, it had riddled his body before. He tried to place it, but all he could discern from it was that he did not want to lose Ginny Weasley. He did not want silly words to come between him and her. Their relationship, as different and as weird as it may be, must not be jeopardised just because, as per usual, Snape didn't know the true impact of his words.

"I..." but what could he say to her? He looked away. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"_I'm sorry_!"

"For what?" he looked at her suddenly, not understanding.

"No!" Ginny gasped in annoyance. "You _dim-witted fool_! Not _me_! _You_! Just say that you're sorry!"

Snape hardly even noticed Ginny verbally abusing him. He was struck by her absolute simplicity. All that it took to get her forgiveness were the two words that had never worked for him. "I'm...I'm sorry?" he said, almost hoping that she were joking.

"Yes!" Ginny was completely serious.

"Then, Miss Weasley...I am sorry," and he felt as if he meant it.

"See? Three words. That's all it takes to fix things."

"In my experience, words mean little when compared to ones actions."

"Then whoever taught you that knows nothing."

Snape stared at her hard. This whole time, he had been thinking of her along the same lines that he had thought of Lily Evans. But now, looking at her with her hands on her hips in a very un-Lily like fashion, he felt his eyes open wider than they were before. Ginny Weasley, was not Lily. Ginny Weasley was her own person.

"Why do you say that?" he asked her, actually eager to have the image of Ginny that was forming in his mind to be completed.

"It's obvious isn't it? Saying something is an action in itself, and can have as much, if not more, effect on a person than an action could. For example, if you were to strap me up and beat me, trying to get information out of me, you probably wouldn't get a word. But if you were to sit me down and talk to me, then I'd most likely talk back, wouldn't I? So that means that words are stronger than actions."

"So much for actions speak louder than words," said Snape with a twinkle in his eye reminiscent of Dumbledore's.

"That's partly true though. If someone says something, then their actions need to back-up those words. The action is the proof of the words."

"So for me to just apologise, is that enough?"

Ginny looked at him for a moment before replying, "For me, yes."

"And why am I the exception?"

"Like I said; when someone talks, it's both words and action combined."

"And what of my...previous statements?" he quizzed, not quite wanting the conversation to end as yet.

"Well like you said, people change their minds. I've decided not to be angry at you about yesterday anymore."

"Oh?" Snape's brow rose in surprise. "To what do I owe the pardon?"

Ginny shrugged.

"You probably had a reason for what you said and what you did. You might be snappish and blunt, but you always have a reason for it. To make us think under pressure. To make us react faster. To make us reassess ourselves."

"That is a very persuasive argument you make, but don't you think it is a little bit selfish to assume that all of my actions – or words since the one represents the other – are solely for your improvement?"

"Either way your actions and words work at us whether it was intended for us or not."

"You keep on saying 'us'. Who are you referring to?"

"Me. And the rest of the students too. Although some of them are too daft to see it."

He let out a low growl-like chuckle. He very much doubted if the other students saw any reason behind his treatment of them. Perhaps they thought he was a bad-tempered man in general. In front of them, yes he definitely was. But, if he could talk, Fawkes would present another, very different, side of the Potions Master. Luckily Fawkes could not talk.

"So..." said Ginny, taking a tentative step towards Snape. He looked up, realising that he had been consumed by his thoughts for a moment.

"Yes, Miss Weasley?"

"So we are friends?"

"I would nod, but I wouldn't want you to assume the wrong meaning from it."

She gave a sideways smile.

"Then how about saying it?"

"Saying it?"

"Yes. If words are the beginning of an action, then say it. Say that we are friends."

He opened his mouth, fully intending to let the girl have her way, after all, hadn't he already said it? But something was not right because the words that escaped him were: "I can't."

"Excuse me, Professor?"

"Not today," he remedied quickly. Why had he said that? He knew the words were true though. He honestly couldn't bring himself to say 'I am your friend,' or any version thereof. He quickly searched himself, looking for the answer to his own insecurities. There it was – it was that same emotion as before. He didn't want to lose Miss Weasley. So...so if he didn't have her, he didn't have anything to lose. He was pushing her away. But there was more than that. This was not as selfish as he was making it out to be. He was not saying anything because he was merely scared of losing _her_; he was not saying anything because he was scared of how she would react when _she_ lost _him_.

He would wait until after his upcoming mission. He would tell her then. If he survived the Department of Mysteries, then he would acknowledge their friendship in words.

"Then when?" asked Ginny.

"Sometime."

Ginny sighed in resignation.

"Well I suppose sometime is better than no time at all," she said and then glared at Professor Snape with much intensity. "Whatever it is you're up to...whatever it is you have to do...don't get killed."

Snape blinked in surprise. How did the girl know that he had a mission? Had Dumbledore done the same as last time and informed the girl in a letter? No, it did not look as if she were that well informed. Perhaps she had seen him last night as he rushed to Dumbledore's office with the news of his impending mission? No, he would have known if he was being followed or spied on. No. There was only one answer and he berated himself for admitting it; a woman's intuition. There could be no other answer. She was looking at him the same way that Molly Weasley glared at her twin sons, knowing that they were planning something but not knowing what...and knowing that she would deal with the results, whatever the results were.

"I won't promise not to get killed," said Snape eventually, "but I will promise that I'll try my very best not to."

"You better, otherwise I'll kill you myself."

Snape laughed at the intensity in her voice and Ginny, although surprised by the sudden outburst, smiled. She liked it when he laughed; all of the lines along his face shifted and his eyes came alive with a shimmer similar to that of Dumbledore's, all of which made him appear much younger.

They talked for a while more, Snape marvelling at how little of Ginny he knew despite how much more time he had spent with her than any of his other students, as well as how blind he could have been to have confused her with Lily. On the surface they had that same firm determination. That same fierce love of the world. But underneath...Lily was timid, and shy and uncertain. Ginny was boisterous, loud, and very much sure of herself. Perhaps the two girls would have been more alike if Lily was born into a wizarding family. Perhaps then she would have had the same, if not similar, confidence in herself from the beginning. Yes, she had been confident in the end, but when he had first met her...actually spoke to her...oh how shocked she had been, and uncertain of the truth, and unwilling to believe it. He imagined Ginny living in a muggle household and someone coming to her and telling her she was a witch. She would most likely respond with "of course I am," not like Lily's response of "that's not a very nice thing to say."

"Professor? Professor?" Ginny touched his arm and he shook his head quickly to remove the memories he was reliving. "Professor, what were you just thinking of?"

"Nothing in particular," he said a little too quickly. "But never you mind about that. I must be off now. Do not look for me this weekend. I am away on business. I will be back on Monday. Be prepared for our class on Tuesday morning."

"Oh...okay then..." and she shuffled her feet a little before meeting Snape's eyes and opening her mouth for one last word of warning. But Snape recognised what was coming and did not let her even start. He did not want her warning words. He placed his long finger over her lips.

"Do not tell me to be careful. I already am. Do not tell me to watch my back. I already do. Do not tell me to come back alive. I already plan to. Rather, believe in me. Wait for me. And be ready for my return."

Ginny brought her hands up to his and curled his fingers around hers, never letting the contact between his hand and her lips to falter. Carefully she kissed his fingers and held the hand close to her.

"You know, I think I'm the selfish one between us. I can't see a reason for you to want to be my friend. But I know that as long as you can make me feel so fabulously full of _nothing_, that I will always want you near me."

Snape smiled a sad smile and watched as the girl nuzzled his hand against her warm cheek. Ginny didn't know it, but she had just put a limit on their friendship; there would come a day, Snape knew, that she wouldn't need him anymore. He gently pulled his hand away from her grasp and she gave a long sigh. His hand tingled at the loss of her touch. What was this sensation? What were these emotions? Was his inner self, left alone for so long, mistaking this girl's need as want? For surely Ginny needed him; he gave her the opportunity to be herself. But want? When she did not need him, she would just leave, wouldn't she? And what would that inner part of him do then? It was a shapeless part of him, but it was growing and mutating the longer he spent around Ginny. The thought made his stomach hurt, so he quickly calmed his mind. Silly thoughts shouldn't be found in a mature man's head anyway.

"Can I walk you out the castle at least?" asked Ginny, looking at Snape with a hopeful sidelong glance.

Snape merely nodded.

* * *

**(A/N: _Thank you to the wonderful reviews I received! To the new-comers, welcome! To the originals, keep reading! I love you all, haha! Let me know what you want to happen in this story. I was originally planning on having it being a Mentor only fic, buuuut, I have an idea to that might bring Snape and Ginny together if that's what you want? I'm all ears! Wonderwhiterabbit hopping off)_**


	21. Chapter 21  Gut Reactions

**(A/N: _So I've taken forever with this chapter. I am sorry. Grovel Grovel Grovel. I was super busy catching up work after I got home from Canada *wave to Canada! So, for this chapter, I think that I need to put my first disclaimer. Other than this being Fan Fiction dot Net and thus very obvious that I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters, I am starting to get into a part of my story that deals a lot with what we know from the books. As such: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the Characters, or any of the settings or anything that you recognise from JK's awesome works. What with that said and done I bid thee to read on! WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off)_**

* * *

**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 21: Gut Reactions

Ginny didn't want to see him go. She didn't get it. Why did he have to do so much? He put up with annoying, whining, whinging students during the day time, and then spent his nighttime consumed by evil, wakeful nightmares. Did they plague him during his sleep, she wondered? Did he wake up in night sweats, screaming from what he had seen and done? For surely he must have done evils; how else was he such a good spy?

Ginny stopped her thoughts and quickly reviewed them. What was going on? How did this all happen? This wasn't right was it? Seriously, what the hell was she thinking?

Oh, that was right, she wasn't thinking. Right now she was watching Severus Snape, the most hated potions professor Hogwarts had ever seen, walking away from Hogwarts, and worrying about him. Hoping that he would be ok. Knowing that he had to do something and that she could do nothing to help.

Ginny Weasley was not one to feel helpless. She didn't like it. It gnawed slowly at her insides and made her fidget. And, worst of all, it made her mental state shiver into overdrive.

She hadn't told Severus Snape much about what went on in her head. But she supposed he had guessed a bit of it, considering how easily he used her weakness – his touch – against her. She still couldn't believe the low-blow he had used on her; calming her with barely a finger! How did you like that? Ginny Weasley, notorious for her raging outbreaks, calmed by a finger! If she was truthful though, she didn't mind as long as it was Snape. She would never let anyone else have as much power over her as he did. Not again. Never ever again.

Ginny shivered involuntarily, and hugged herself. In that moment, the black cape of Severus Snape disappeared in a flurry of apparition. Ginny felt as alone as she had one night so many nights ago, when she had been lying far under the foundations of Hogwarts. She also felt as forgotten as a secret buried with the dead.

. . .

Severus did not look back as he reached the apparition point outside of Hogwarts. He was already half-way through the motion of disappearing as he felt himself step outside of Hogwarts' protective boundaries. He did not look back. Because he couldn't. Because if he did, he might not have the strength to face what lay ahead of him. It was stupid, and silly, and immature how a part of him was clinging to the attentions of a teenager. There were woman of all sorts populating the earth – not merely a few that Snape found himself attracted to – and more than enough to choose from. It was the red hair, he reasoned with himself. She looks like her. Ginny looks like Lily. _But she's not Lily_, a voice said at the back of his head. _She's not anything at all like Lily._

So? Said the other side of Snape's brain.

_So_, said the previous side slowly, as if trying to explain how puzzle pieces fit together to a five year old, _that means that if you like her, you like her for who she is, and not because she's a good substitute for something you once had_.

Once had? Asked the slower Severus to the more mature sounding Snape.

_You had Lily. Once. And you blew it._

I never had her, replied Severus curtly.

_A very clever hat once said, "_The secrets buried in your head are lost but never dead"_ good advice don't you think? _The Snape voice went quiet as the Severus voice repeated: I never had her.

And _pop_, Severus had arrived at Malfoy Manor, never in his life having stepped onto the grounds in such a confused mental state. In his mind, the image of Ginny and Lily were merging together to create a red-headed beauty so that Snape could not distinguish the one from the other. Something in his head was hurting; it was as if there was a part of his head that he was trying to access to fill in the blanks, but although he knew he had had the memories in the past, it felt as though he didn't have them any more.

It felt as if he had lost some of his memories. As he thought it, Snape knew it was true. Being around Ginny Weasley was putting him into this uneasy state because she was helping him remember...something...what was it that she was helping him remember? Snape scoffed; as if one could remember what one has forgot! Ginny Weasley was being as useless to him as a Remembral was for Longbottom! And going just as red...

But wait. Something clicked in Snape's head. Two puzzle pieces indeed! There was a part of his mind that was missing. He could not access it, and thus no one else could either. Ginny was triggering this portion of his mind. That meant that all of the memories he had with her were now in the same place of his mind than those other memories that he couldn't remember.

Wait, did that mean that she was overriding the other memories? Slowly vanishing them as new memories covered them up? Or, were the new memories starting to fill up the place of the lost ones – proving that Snape will never get those memories back?

"As much as you need a bath, I wouldn't suggest taking one in the apparition pond."

Snape snapped his head upwards. How long had he been stuck in his own thoughts? Had anyone noticed the flash of emotions that had covered his face as his mind reeled with new theories? These new thoughts Severus kept to himself. He was not about to give a show to any unworthy audiences. He stepped gracefully (if that was possible) out of the pond and onto the dark green lawn of Malfoy Manor. In front of him stood Rookwood, his arms folded so that they made a skew line over his chest that matched his skew smile. Snape felt his gut boil at the sight of the other Death Eater. He didn't like him. More so than normal.

"The Dark Lord is ready to see you now, Severus," Rookwood gave a mock bow that showed off his stolen wand gripped tightly in his hand. Severus didn't want to walk in front of Rookwood knowing that Rookwood would be following right behind him armed and ready. But he reminded himself of a stern fact; they trusted him.

Severus returned the bow with a sneer on his face and then billowed past the other man. He did not take notice of anyone else as he stepped easily through the Manor as if he owned it, throwing his coat at a squeaking house elf who hurried to obey his orders. He slowed his long strides as he reached the large red wood double doors that marked the entrance to the Library. If the Dark Lord was in the Library, that meant he was in a good mood. The Dark Lord had something akin to competition with books – they would set the boundaries and he would break them. Severus knew the upcoming mission would be a difficult one. This was just one more sign that proved it to him.

He pushed the double doors open, his hands clenching along the handles in his last show of discomfort, before he stood in the open, empty doorway. Red eyes stared predatorily back at him, but as much as the doorway he stood in was open, so were the doors to his mind shut. His mind was locked to anyone and everyone.

"Severus," whispered Voldemort as he looked the man up and down. "You look well."

"Thank you, my Lord," replied Snape. "Permission to enter?"

"Come now, Severus!" Voldemort gave what could be called a hearty chuckle if it were coming from a snake. "Formalities are not necessary! I am at my leisure, and so should you be. Come sit by my side!"

"Yes, my Lord," Severus bowed his head curtly before walking into the room, ignoring the sudden chill that hit him exuding off of Lord Voldemort. Rookwood appeared behind him, not sure whether to join Severus or stay in the doorway.

"The doors, Rookwood. Close them," said Voldemort as he surveyed the other man with his red eyes. They gave off a glint of hostility and Rookwood hurriedly obeyed, not in the least confused any more as to whether he was invited inside or not.

"Severus," sighed Voldemort as the door closed and they were left alone, "you are too good to me. You never put me in difficult situations. I always know what I can expect from you. But recently, I feel that this has changed. What happened, Severus? Why did you not let me in?"

Severus knew the question was coming. Why hadn't he shown Voldemort his memories of Ginny Weasley? For once, Severus found himself eager to divulge the truth.

"My Lord, I have wondered about the same thing! For I was _not_ hiding her purposefully from you at all. She was forefront in my mind when I opened up to you. All that I can think of is that her memories are being protected by something else – as would a pensieve of one's memories."

"And have you been using a pensieve, Severus?" asked Voldemort idly, his sharp eyes searching Severus' face for any trace of lies.

"No, my Lord," said Snape smoothly. "That is why I did not understand what was going on. I have tried to find some theories...but the magic of the Mind is not well researched and I have found little but my own thoughts to be useful."

"Ah yes," once more that chuckle exuded from somewhere in Voldemort's chest, sending a rumble of cold sound through the large room. Snape was grateful for the large number of books around them that sucked up the evil noise. "Your theories, Severus, are always amusing."

"Amusing, my Lord?" Snape let a little hurt show through.

"Do not be so touchy, Severus. I did not say they were not valid, I merely said that they were amusing. They allow me something else to concentrate on."

"Oh, I see, my Lord..." there was a slight silence as Snape fidgeted with his cloak's folds.

"Severus, do not sulk! You are too easy to read sometimes, my comrade!" he leant across and patted Severus' knee in something like a fatherly manner. Severus moved into the touch, which made Voldemort smile in a madman grin. "You like my attention too much Severus," he whispered. "But now I am giving you the opportunity to deserve it."

"My Lord?" Severus' face lit up with an expectant smile.

"You remember, Severus, when you first became my spy?"

Severus' face fell and shadows covered his eyes.

"Yes, my Lord...I was not very good..."

"That is true," Voldemort nodded his head gravely. "And you paid for your mistakes."

Severus shrunk away from the words, his body posture of a puppy remembering past grievances and wishing his master would forget them. "Those mistakes are gone, Severus...the ones that you paid for...but there is one, perhaps you know which, that still needs...remedying."

Snape, his face still to the floor, blinked foolishly a few times. Then, his face lighting once more, he looked to Voldemort with hope oozing from each crease on his face. "You will let me fix my mistake, my Lord? You will let me purge myself of my misinterpretation?"

"I see you know of what I speak," Voldemort nodded his head as if Snape's mental abilities were all his own doing. "Say it."

Snape let his eyes drop down but his head remained focused forwards.

"The...the p-pr-prophecy..."

"Look at me and _say it_!" Voldemort was not happy with Snape's open display of fear. "You are not a coward, Severus! I know that! Remember, Dumbledore and everyone else, remember what they called you! And remember," Voldemort's voice turned into a whisper once more, "remember that I know what you are..." Voldemort took Severus' face in a long white hand, his nails digging into Snape's gaunt jaw and forcing his head up to look him directly in his red eyes. "You are my eyes. You are my ears. I cannot have you fail me again."

"I will do anything, my Lord!" Severus stated boldly, his black eyes a pool of determination. "I will fix the mistake of the Prophesy! Tell me my mission, my Lord, and I will do it!"

"Very good!" whispered Voldemort, easing back into his large chair. "Very good."

. . .

Severus still didn't like being around Rookwood. This reaction was made all the more intense by the fact that he did not have any time to recover after his stint with the Dark Lord. He had been sent directly from the quiet Library, instructions in mind, into the stiflingly hot kitchen to find Rookwood waiting for him by the wood-based oven. Rookwood had thrown some powder into the oven that had turned the fire inside sparkling blue. A cold breeze blew onto Severus' face that reminded him much too much of Voldemort's cold laugh.

"After you," he had said to Rookwood who gave a visible shudder before climbing through the entrance of the oven. Snape took a breath and then followed the crawling figure through the oven. The oven burned a bright blue and then Snape realised that the entrance behind him was no longer there. They were in a tunnel that continued forwards in a blue haze of fire. Somewhere along the way, Severus was aware of a barrier opening and closing around him, and his Dark Mark tingled for a moment as if it had been disturbed. He did not like crawling on his hands and knees. He was a wizard; he either made the tunnel bigger or made himself smaller! But he dare not use his wand. Who knew what magic had been used to create this tunnel? Either way, he was stuck crawling and ruefully regretting his bony knees. Much later than he had hoped, Rookwood stopped.

"I don't think I need to tell you to be cautious, or quiet," Rookwood said nastily over his shoulder. "But I'll say it anyway. Be cautious. Be quiet."

And then Rookwood bent upwards and shifted something heavy above his head. When the heavy thing had been moved, he stood and pulled himself up the opening. Snape stared ahead of him; the tunnel still carried on. He wondered where else it lead, but Rookwood stuck his head down the hole and hissed, "Hurry up!" so Snape turned away and pulled himself up the hole.

Snape felt like his head had transported him back in time. He knew this room! This was the very same place that a trial was held by the Wizengamot in order to prove or disprove his innocence. How many court cases had been held in this room since then, he wondered.

"What the Dark Lord sees in you, I will never understand! Again, I say, hurry up!" Snape turned and saw Rookwood struggling to move the chained chair in the middle of the court room back over the tunnel they had just come through.

"Won't anyone else find that there someday?" asked Snape as he watched the hole disappear behind the heavy chair.

"It isn't permanent. I don't know how it works but it just does. If you moved that chair now, the tunnel would be gone."

"Then how are we getting back?" asked Snape slowly, not at all looking forward to breaking out of the Ministry for Magic and blowing his cover.

"No idea. I thought you were the brains of this duo."

"That's not difficult to conceive," whispered Snape as he strode across the court room to the door. He opened it a crack and peered outside. There was no one there that he could see. "_Homenum Revelio_," said Snape whilst pointing his wand in the direction down the hallway. No response.

"And?" asked Rookwood as Snape still did not move.

"The Order..." whispered Snape so that Rookwood had to take two steps closer to hear him.

"What's that?" asked Rookwood, his voice much louder than it should have been.

"The Order," repeated Snape. "They should have someone standing guard. Why isn't there anyone down here?"

"Lunch break, nap time, your guess is probably better than mine after all."

"Tch, not saying much," sneered Snape who then straightened and walked confidently down the hallway, Rookwood trotting unconcernedly at his heals. Snape could think of only one reason; Dumbledore had removed the Order from the entrance to the Department of Mysteries so that Snape could have safe passage. Damn that Dumbledore! He was making it too easy!

But then Dumbledore's words came back to Severus: "_Don't touch anything!_" Maybe this was going to be difficult enough without having the Order interfering.

Snape wound his way through the cold halls, appreciating the silent way the walls gobbled up the sound of their feet. The Dark Lord had said that their way would be clear within the Department for three hours, but no one had said anything about outside the department. He wondered again how he was going to get out of the Ministry, but vaguely he knew there was a plan.

Snape cast the spell to reveal presence a few times more, but still they encountered no one. A bad feeling was starting to crawl slowly up his neck.

"We're close now," said Rookwood as they passed another chamber on their left. "It should be along this hall now."

Snape knew where he was going; not only had he kept watch at the entrance to the department of Mysteries before but he had also seen the entrance a few too many times in Harry Potter's head. The Snake, Nagini, had been here before and attacked Ginny Weasley's father. A picture of Ginny, worried and awaiting news of her father, entered Snape's head and he fleetingly wondered if she would react like that if he ever was injured beyond repair. Luckily no such thing had ever happened to him; he was too strong for such things. But although he knew where he was going, Rookwood didn't know that, so he said, "You sure?"

"Yes! It's that door right there!" and Rookwood ran to the door, grasped its handle and opened it. Snape followed at a more orderly pace and then peered past Rookwood into a circular room with many doors.

"You used to work here, didn't you?" he asked Rookwood.

"Yes," said the Death Eater slowly, a crease along his brow. "But this is why the Dark Lord needs you; the place has changed since last I was here. It is the department of Mysteries after all – it changes itself once or twice every year."

"It changes itself? What if you are inside and it changes? And what if after we have mapped out the department it changes before the Dark Lord's plans come into action?"

"You doubt our Lord too easily," sneered Rookwood. "He has found a spell and moulded it. Once you plot the department on the paper that he has made, the Department won't be able to change at all _ever_! Unless the paper is destroyed, naturally."

"Naturally..." drawled Snape. So that was why the Dark Lord was in the Library; he was busy developing the paper that would allow Snape to map out the Department and fix it in place. He remembered something like it – it was Agricultural Magic if memory served him (and it did not fail him often). It was originally used to plot paths in woods and farms, so that the plotter's path would never be changed by growing nature. He had looked up magic mapping strategies shortly after discovering the Marauder's Map, jealous, and a little impressed, that someone else had made such a thing. But what the Dark Lord was planning on doing was more than just interceding nature. Magic was a much deeper element than merely earth or air. Magic, as an element, was everything combined. It was what lay between everything and held it together, between the very tiniest molecule and its brother. Even Muggles had magic in them, just not the ability to wield it. Did the Dark Lord have so much power that he could change the course of Magic?

His gut clenched. He did not like this. This was not good. Not right. He made his mind up on the spot; if ever he got the opportunity, he would destroy the map that he was about to make.

He stepped into the room, followed by Rookwood, and the door clicked shut behind them.

With a whirl of colour, the doors started spinning and the clench in Snape's stomach hardened. His eyes burned with the blue flames that blurred into a horizontal streak. He couldn't tell if it was the wall spinning or the floor. Either way, he didn't want it to stop. When it stopped he would have to start thinking. Start doing. And what he was about to do was very, very wrong. But he was going to do it in any case. With a blink, everything was still once more.

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**(A/N: _And so Snape enters the Department of Mysteries! What awaits him in this unknown place? I have been planning the next chapter quite a bit considering we know so very little about the department, but if you have any suggestions then let me know! Then, because I could not say it at the top, let me say it now: Thank you for the reviews and the PM's! Every single one encourages me and inspires me! WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off)_**


	22. Chapter 22  Department of Mysteries P1

**(A/N: _Alright! Longest chapter EVER! We are now in the Department of Mysteries. I'd just like to say thank you to all those who gave me ideas and those who reviewed. I really needed it for this chapter! As before, all you recognise is not mine but JK's and all that is new to you is a figment of my imagination. Read on! Wonderwhiterabbit hopping off)_**

* * *

**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 22: The Department of Mysteries: Part 1

"I was not expecting that," said Rookwood to his left. Snape could hear the other man's laboured breathing as adrenalin mounted inside of them. They were now in unchartered waters...literally.

"I was," said Snape as he strode into the middle of the room. He turned slowly, carefully extending his magic in tendrils to touch the air. To Rookwood, he looked like a man illuminated by the sun. Just as slowly as he had extended his magic, so did Snape pull it back in. Each flare carefully shrunk back into his skin. His shoulders slumped for a moment and Severus felt drained and pale. But the moment passed and the magic was within him once more, carrying with it a taste of the room that filled his veins with understanding.

"Is the room enchanted?" asked Rookwood who was now looking at Snape with renewed interest.

"Yes...and no..." said Snape and crossed his arms. He looked at the room with his naked eye, no longer trying to feel it out. Now he was just looking. Twelve doors. One was the exit. The other eleven held the secrets that he was about to unveil. He memorised every detail; the shape of the doors, the blue lights that sat in brackets between each door, the carefully rounded door knobs, the lack of light illuminating from underneath each slit in the doorway, the chequered pattern of the smooth and cool bricks lining the walls, the way the floor mirrored the roof...that last one was important.

"Yes and no? What is it with you that I can never get a clear answer out of you? Do you get turned on or something by making up riddles that have no meaning to anyone else?"

Snape's mouth twisted into a snarl; he hated dirty talk. It was crude and unnecessary and used only by people who didn't have a large enough vocabulary to come up with something better. But if Rookwood wanted to play games below the belt, so could he.

"At least to turn me on is a challenge," he smirked but moved on quickly as he saw Rookwood's face turn an angry splotchy red. "I say yes because it has been enchanted. But I say no because it has not been enchanted by Wizards. This magic feels...primitive. And I have no doubt that this room is the source of the rest of the Department's power. Everything happens in this room."

"So we could be stuck here forever? I don't look forward to that!"

"I wouldn't like spending the rest of forever with you either; however, as sweet as that invitation may be, we will not be stuck here. This magic...I have felt something akin to it before..." Snape thought quickly about his next words. This room was like the Room of Requirement. It had the same taste to it; a _need_ that was so strong it was like a craving. Perhaps this was another Cradle like the Room, and it had fulfilled its craving by becoming the Department of Mysteries? "Ask and it will answer," said Snape eventually and after seeing Rookwood's still-blank face, he said, "Show me the exit!"

A door immediately opened opposite Rookwood. They both looked out the door and saw the way that they had come; the desolate corridor appeared very welcoming to Severus right now, but he had no choice but to turn his back on it. Rookwood slowly closed the door. Snape was ready for the weird sensation of the walls spinning in front of him, but instead of concentrating on the walls he looked to the roof. And then to the floor. And then to the roof again.

He was right. The roof and the floor had switched places. Could the Department really be that large? But if it was magic other than Wizards' creating the rooms then surely it was possible!

"Show me the exit!" said Snape again, and once again a door clicked open, this time behind him.

"What the hell are you doing asking for that again?" demanded Rookwood. "You're wasting time! Now the whole place is gonna go spinning again!"

"Shut up and use your eyes!" said Snape and clicked the door shut. The room spun once more, blue light dancing along Snape's retinas. Yes, the floor and the roof shifted back to how they had been when they had first entered. So that meant that on both Roof level and Floor level was a door to the exit. So that meant that on each level were eleven other doors that lead to various places – perhaps the same places but from a different perspective?

"I didn't see anything except bright blue," said Rookwood impatiently.

"Observe," indicated Snape and then said, "Roof level!"

The shift was more present now without the distraction of the travelling walls. Snape felt the pull of gravity as blood rushed quickly to his head and the sensation of hanging upside down struck him with an urge to gag, but a blink later and he was standing upright once more, his head a little dizzier than it was before.

"Ok, what the hell was that?" Rookwood's face was littered with more red patches than earlier and his hands were outstretched as if he were balancing on a thin wire. He stared from the floor to the roof and quickly repeated the action. "Are we on the roof? Are we upside down?"

"I think, rather, that the Department is upside down and we are right way up," drawled Snape, quite enjoying Rookwood's insecurities. "We were momentarily upside down, but I cannot be sure of anything as yet."

"What can you be sure of?"

"In this place...I think very little. When you worked here, what did you used to do?"

"I worked with Time Turners," replied Rookwood, still eyeing the floor as if it would shift again at any second. "It was a minor role, but one that allowed me access to many different resources."

"And what resources may those be?"

"Knowledgeable ones."

"Let me rephrase; what other rooms do you know of? Other than the Time Turner room."

"Well, let me think," Rookwood held out his hand and started to count them off on his fingers. "There's a room called the Planetarium. One of the guys who worked in the Time Turner room also worked with the Sun in that room and he took me there once to see everything. Weirdest place I've ever seen with my own two eyes! Then there's the Hall of Prophesies. But we know about that room already. There's the Office. In my day it was just a room with lots of doors on either side that lead into each person's personal office. And, er..." he paused for a moment, finger on finger as he thought of any more rooms that he might know of. "Oh, yes, a Room of Elements; lots of rocks and water all over the place in that room."

"Lots of rocks and water? That is the best description you can give me?"

"It was a long time ago and if you don't remember I was stuck in a prison for just as long!"

"I am glad the Dark Lord gave me a few memories of what others have seen who have worked here. Bode, for one."

Rookwood fumed.

"You mean that you've known the whole time how this place works and you've just been having me on?" the man spluttered.

"Not at all. I was given memories of rooms; not how to get to them. Your recollections match a few of the memories I have. They are very useful to me, if a bit...unrefined," Snape's lip curled upwards and he allowed his eyes to show his distaste of the man in front of him who was now all but swelling with withheld anger. "I suggest though, that we begin. We have three hours only and already precious moments have passed. Floor Level!" and once again they felt the weird shift as the roof was replaced by the floor. Snape strode forwards and grasped the door directly in front of him and opened.

Before them was a long corridor, bare of everything and anything. All Severus could see was red walls, ceiling and floor. He took a tentative step forwards. The floor felt bouncy beneath his feet, as if he were standing on that artificial grass that muggles used. Once more he gathered his magic about him and sent out cautious tendrils. It only took him a moment and he withdrew his magic with a mischievous smile.

"I think you will like this room," said Severus to his dawdling friend. Rookwood appeared not to want to go anywhere, even if the corridor appeared empty.

"Why? How do you know?" he demanded, his jaw set in an attempt to keep down his obvious fear.

"It is a room that will show you nothing unless you know what you want to find, and where to find it."

"You make no sense," growled Rookwood, but he stepped carefully into the room. The door clicked closed behind him. Snape raised an eyebrow; having a frightened companion was not going to do him any good at all. He would have to do something to calm the idiot down.

"When I was in school, we had group projects that we had to do," said Snape as he took a slow walk down the long corridor. He could see that the corridor turned a sharp left further down. There were no other doors along the way as far as he could see.

"I know this. Your year was not much behind than mine," snapped Rookwood, his hand gripped tightly around his wand as his eyes jumped from wall to wall.

"Of course I would not dream of doing any of my projects with _gryffindores_," continued Snape as he walked confidently down the red corridor, "and, unfortunately, _hufflepuffs_ were not nearly smart enough to keep up with my thoughts. So I ended up with a Ravenclaw most of the time when my own house could not suffice."

Rookwood scoffed, but Snape ignored him. The guy was getting more and more twitchy the further down the corridor they got; he would let loose a spell any second now just to release himself of his tension and Snape could not allow that. It might set things off.

"I had to do some of the project in the Ravenclaw commonroom then. They have a very interesting way of allowing people into their territory. You are asked a question and must answer correctly. If you do not get the answer right, you wait until someone arrives who can answer the question. That way everyone learns from each other."

"Are you getting to the point of your story yet?" Rookwood was now yelling, although he seemed completely oblivious to his own level of voice. They had reached the corner and turned, only to be faced with more spongy floor, although this time a blue that would match Dumbledore's eyes.

"Yes. Once I was asked _"Those that are hidden cannot be found by those who know not what to find. Where are those hidden things?" _Granted the doorknocker asked me harder questions the more he saw me, and usually I could answer. But this time I was...stumped. Obviously if you don't know what you are looking for, you cannot find anything. But, if you are looking for anything, you will definitely find something. And then I understood; you can find hidden things everywhere."

As his explanation finished, they reached the end of the corridor and before them stood an empty room, the squishy floor now a bright yellow that was painful to the eyes. But the room did not stay empty for long. One by one, objects of various colours, shapes and sizes began to appear before them, as if each one was blurring slowly into focus. Snape could not stop his smile from spreading; there was so much to see here! Piles of items materialised, some moving, some stationery. Severus knew in the magical world that normal items were not normal; in Hogwarts often a chair would have feelings, or a bed would grant a good night's rest to its owner. But he didn't realise this much...The items had run away. He almost laughed when he saw a pile of socks reaching the roof of the room: they had obviously grown tired of being stepped on so much and needed a vacation away from their owners! A shabby flying carpet, long out of use, gingerly flew up to them and offered itself. Severus was tempted to take the offer but remembered what Dumbeldore had told him: Don't touch anything!

But he petted the carpet none the less and watched as it glided to a group of brooms who swept its fluff clean in a scolding manner. Then some keys on a large key chain appeared and started chasing the brooms around with a loud clatter.

"This room..." said Rookwood, still trying to comprehend it properly, "What exactly is it?"

A sign, long forgotten, floated towards them. On it, in curly writing, read "ROOM OF LOST THINGS".

"There is your answer, Mr Rookwood," sneered Snape, not at all surprised by the bluntness of Rookwood's magic. _His_ magic had told him what this room was for from the very beginning! Ah, but he would not get cocky. No. Severus would be just as careful as he always was.

"Have you seen enough of this place?" asked Rookwood. He shifted uneasily from foot to foot as he watched the Lost Objects appear and disappear around him.

Snape looked about the room with keen eyes. There was nothing else in this room that was stable except for its luminous yellow walls. He remembered how many steps he had taken down each corridor, and mentally he measured the height of the walls and the width of the roof and floor. When he had seen all he could, he nodded his head to Rookwood who gratefully turned back the way they had come.

But Snape did not turn back. Instead he headed deeper into the room until he was walking along the back wall. Rookwood, realising quickly that Snape was not with him, yelled, "Oi! What do you think you're doing? Even you said we were on a tight schedule!"

"We were told to map the whole department," Snape pointed out in his cool logical voice. "There is another room beyond this one." And indeed there was a door, hidden by an ancient forgotten coffin that stood in front of it.

Rookwood walked towards the door and shivered by the closed coffin.

"If _this_ thing is here, there must be a reason for it," he indicated the coffin and pointed out its position in front of the door.

"I doubt that," replied Snape, enjoying seeing the fear glint in the other man's eyes, "you see as soon as this door opens, I suspect everything will disappear again and the room will return to how it was before."

"Why? What makes you so sure?"

"We are no longer looking for objects, therefore we will find none unless they are looking for us," said Snape as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

And he touched his hand to the square handle of the door. In a fuzzy blur, and with the sound of wind whispering secrets to them, the objects did indeed disappear. The coffin was the last to go and, maybe it was Severus' imagination, but he thought he heard a sigh of contentment come from somewhere inside the black case. He shook his head a little to clear it as the wind tried to return both him and Rookwood, and for a moment he had to grab Rookwood by the arm as his edges began to blur as well.

"You are not lost!" snapped Snape to the man. "You are in the Department of Mysteries and you are not lost, therefore this room has no power over you! You have a purpose! You cannot disappear with them!"

Rookwood clenched his hand around Snape's wrist to reassure himself of his surroundings. The wind slowly disappeared with a moan of longing. The room had let them free. Snape checked where along the wall the door could be found, his keen eyes measuring, noting, memorising. Then he turned to the new room before him and walked through, sure to drag Rookwood in behind him. As soon as the door closed behind him, Rookwood turned wide eyes to Snape.

"What just happened?" he blurted out in a whisper.

"You had some idea in your head that you were lost. The room acted on the thought. It wanted to help you like it helped all of the other Lost Objects. But I don't know where it would take you, or how I would get you back if you were lost. You need to keep your head!"

"Stop talking so loudly!" said Rookwood.

"I was not talking loudly," spat Snape, his patience now reaching its limit. Surely the Dark Lord knew how useless this idiot was?

"You are! You're talking so loudly I think my ears are going to burst!" and then Rookwood let out a scream of pain, his hands covering his ears in an attempt to keep some form of noise out that Severus could not hear. The man shrunk to his knees, his hands pressed hard over his head as his moans echoed around the new room. Snape was too shocked by this sudden reaction to think straight, but his instincts took over instead. He pulled Rookwood towards the door; better to have something solid at your back if you were being attacked. Then he turned his wild, instinct run eyes to the room. But whatever the room was, he could not tell. His eyes were not seeing as they usually did. He had murky eyes at best; long had he pondered over eye-glasses and turned them down simply because in a dungeon he needed to be accustomed to the dark and glasses would hurt his eyes when he returned to the light of outside. But now he could see every detail in the room as if he were looking under a magnifying glass. He felt his eyes begin to strain with this sudden ability. His eyes began to water and a pounding was beginning somewhere behind his temples. He tried to focus out, and the small muscles that controlled his retina shook with the attempt. But if he did not try, surely his eyes would not last. Surely they would be pushed past their limit. Surely he would go blind!

He did not know what he was doing now, only that the instinct that had made him act before was taking over again. His mind shut down and his magic flared out in a layer of white light around him. The white light covered his vision and a few splotches of black appeared. But the pain was gone. The strain was lessened. His magic brought forth a taste of the room, and understanding filled him and almost made him laugh. Then he heard the screams from his companion, now writhing on the floor as blood dripped slowly between his hands that still covered his ears. Snape did not roll his eyes at the man; he too had been taken in by the room. Carefully he laid a hand on Rookwood's shoulder and then with a deep breath sent out his magic to engulf the man as well. His magic did not like the touch of Rookwood's skin and burned a light yellow, but he suppressed the motions that conflicted with his will and the magic continued until both he and Rookwood were a fiery mass of Magic. Rookwood blinked upwards as he saw Snape standing over him, illuminated in light.

"Senses have always been a mystery to many. This room's sense is that of Sense. It recognises the weakest one may have and improves it."

"How did you know to counter with magic?" whispered Rookwood and cringed against the sound of his own voice.

"Any room acquainted with magic will recognise it again. How else do the Unspeakables work here if they are attacked every time?"

Rookwood shakily stood up by himself – Snape had helped the man enough and did not offer his hand. He was pleased to see Rookwood exert his own magic that appeared along his skin in a film of dark blue. He saw that the layer was thickest around the man's ears which were slowly dripping blood. He supposed his own eyes must be red with burst veins. Never say a Potions Master was caught unawares though. Snape ruffled in his bag and pulled out a vile of healing potion. This was going to sting, but he would rather have his eyes back to normal than the patchy vision he had now. He opened the vile and dropped just one drop into each eye. It did burn, but with his magic already shielding him from pain he could endure it. He turned to Rookwood.

"Let me put some of this into each of your ears. It may hurt a bit, but I suspect your eardrums are damaged."

Rookwood meekly complied and tilted his head carefully from side to side whilst holding tightly to the wall. Yes, his eardrums were far gone. Probably his balance too. Snape smirked at how little pain the other Death Eater could handle, but stopped quickly as he realised any punishment for lack of success in this mission would be given to both Rookwood and, probably twofold, to himself.

Rookwood grit his teeth as the drops of healing potion steamed in his ears, but no more wails or moans escaped him. Snape pretended to ignore the man's pain and turned to the room. It was covered in tiny wires that zigzagged, criss-crossed, intersected and forked over the floor, walls and ceiling. Each tiny wire was buzzing with activity carrying fast moving lights through each other. In the middle of the room were five pillars, each with a grossly enlarged fleshy piece on it. Severus, careful to keep his magic field around him, walked to the closest pillar and observed the flesh _thing_ on it. His lip curled upwards but one could not tell if he were smiling or grimacing.

"It is an ear," Severus said aloud since Rookwood had not joined him. "I believe that this is the Room of Senses. Each of these pillars hosts a sense and these wires – or nerves as I believe they are – each travel to their respective sense. These pillars must act as receptors." He looked closer at the pillar in front of him. Yes, the wires disappeared _into_ the pillar, not underneath it. Also, there were runes of a sort he had not encountered before curling in a spiral down the pillar. He walked to the Eye pillar. It had a bowl on it as well as the enlarged eye that matched the ear he had just observed. He stopped in his tracks as he recognised what was inside the bowl; fake eyes, not very unlike one that he had seen before on a certain Mad Auror. He smirked; so _this_ was where Moody had gotten his Magical Eye from. Snape had no doubt about the abilities of that eye now after experiencing the power of this room on his own two. The next pillar held a tongue that still drooled saliva down its sides. Snape remembered that a tongue was not such a short thing nor very light, and was surprised that the thin pillar it lay on held it up so well. On the last two pillars were a nose and a finger respectively. Snape smirked at the long nose as he realised it mirrored his own hooked appendage.

"Please say you have had enough of this room?" said Rookwood who was still standing next to the door from the Room of Lost Things. "We're just here to map the place, not to explore."

"But exploration is what precedes mapping," Snape said idly, truly miffed that he had so little time in this marvellous department.

"Spare me the lecture, Professor," slighted Rookwood.

Snape did not rise to the bait, merely looked to the room again and once more recorded the measurements with his keen eyes. Yes, they may not see well from his years spent in the darkness of his dungeons brewing the more aggressive potions, but his eyes did not miss much nor forget much either.

He turned to the only other door in the room and opened. Rookwood was careful this time to look at the room that they entered before he stepped into it. It was a room separated by a long wide wall – possibly another room. In the part of the room that was clear to them were springy mats, a man wide and long, littered along the floor. At the far end of the wall was a slightly raised stage that held forever-burning essence. Snape felt his head immediately lull to the side as he inhaled the smells, and his body surged forwards towards a mat that called to him. All he wanted to do was to sit on this lovely spongy mat and ponder the world, ponder his life, ponder the universe and all the creatures in it.

"Where do you think you're going?"

That was an annoying voice, a part of Snape's mind noted.

But it was important he listen to that voice, wasn't it?

No, it was an annoying voice. Nothing worthy of pondering. Nothing worthy of meditating over.

Snape's mind clouded up quickly. Meditation. _Meditation_. This room was a Meditation Chamber. He had heard of them before! Think of the now! Think of the present! But his brain had now stopped, the tug-of-war between the Chamber of Meditation and his own thoughts taking over everything else. Part of him knew what needed to be done, but his head was not going to help that happen. And he was losing to the room. It's influence on him was too great. He already had a mind full of thoughts that wondered, and pondered, and _thought_, and now the Chamber was taking advantage of that.

He felt a splitting pain in his stomach. He doubled over, coughing for air. The taste of blood filled his mouth as he bit down on his own tongue. Pain. That was the now. That was the present. It filled him up. All straying thoughts concentrated on his stomach. His mouth. His ragged breathing.

He looked up. Rookwood was breathing hard too, his hand held gingerly in his other hand.

"You have bony ribs you know that? I think that punch hurt me more than it did you."

Snape gasped a bit more for breath.

"I doubt it," he spat out, but slowly righted himself. "A Meditation Chamber. I thought they were only found in the East? How did you know pain would bring me back?"

"I did work here you know. I might not have seen much, but Unspeakables gossip as bad as our opposite gender. I heard about someone who lost their thoughts in a place and that they had to hit her over the head to bring her back. Of course I wasn't about to hit you over the head..." he grinned an ugly array of teeth.

"No, but you thought a good sock in the stomach would do just as well," Snape let the venom enter his voice, although he was grateful the man had helped him. He shouldn't have let his guard down like that. His own head was not a safe place anywhere, never mind _here_. He turned and saw another door behind him, directly next to the Room of Senses entrance. He stepped forwards and opened the door without hesitation; he could not let Rookwood see how much this chamber had affected him.

Immediately the magic in the room warmed him. It was a thin room, not longer than his own classroom, and at the end of it sat a large statue with open arms.

Rookwood whistled.

"That's one awesome man," he whispered.

Snape frowned and looked at the statue. He did not see a man, but a woman with long curls, her naked body covered only with carved thin mother-of-pearl leaves, their veins glittering with a golden thread.

"You and I see differently," said Snape. His eyes opened a fraction wider as he saw magic begin to glow around the woman's outstretched arms. He walked a step forwards, unsure as to what he should do. But he recognised that magic. It was a white fire like his own, and she was holding it out to him to take it. He knew he could not touch her, although he did not know how he knew this. Instead, he once more let his magic out of him. The tendrils slowly extended towards the woman. Then he heard a voice in the back of his head: "_Don't touch anything!_"

He was not touching anything. Magic-to-magic was not considered touch. It was much more intimate than touch. And he desperately wanted that connection with this beautiful woman. Somehow, she reminded him of someone. The magic in her arms reached out for his and they met. A red light filled the room. Snape was dimly aware of Rookwood hastily stepping out of the room back into the meditation chamber. The light absorbed him. He heard a voice of a woman singing. It was a lullaby he had not heard in a long time, but the memory of a warm autumn sun slowly setting over him touched his mind. The statue, now a flesh and blood woman, stepped towards him. The light shone around them but he could see her clearly. Her curly hair was red. Her skin was a pale white. Her eyes were a deep maroon. She took his hands and warmth flowed into him. Life that he had not felt in years surged through him. She stepped closer yet, her warmth now burning into his flesh and she kissed him.

His mind did not think. In fact, his mind was a complete blank. Every thought he had was swept away by the contact of this woman's lips on his. She withdrew slowly and smiled at him.

"Who are you?" he whispered, his black eyes leaking tears of joy.

"I am your guardian, though you do not know me. I am sorry I have not been able to help you better over the years, but your heart has been closed to all."

"Why can I see you now?" he asked as she stepped back a step, though her hands were still holding his.

"Your heart has opened," she said simply.

"Opened? How? Why?"

She smiled a sad smile and stepped once more backwards. Their hands parted. The light faded. And Snape was left staring at a statue of a woman.

"Snape?" came a shallow voice from behind him.

Severus turned to see Rookwood cowering behind the door. All of a sudden he was intensely curious; what did Rookwood see in the room?

"What room is this one? I don't like it," Rookwood said with a shaky voice. "I get the feeling that I am in trouble when I step into it."

Snape smirked; at least Rookwood's Guardian knew how stupid the man was being. His smirk faded: what did _his_ guardian know about _him_? He turned again to the woman whose face held a sad smile of knowing.

"This is The Shrine," explained Snape. "We should not stay too long." He turned and closed the door behind him, now back in the Meditation Chamber. The flare of power he had felt from his Guardian, however, did not disappear. She had strengthened him for what lay ahead.

He walked silently through the Meditation Chamber past the partitioning made by another room that they could not enter from here. In the far corner, past another stage with more essence issuing from it was another door. Snape gratefully opened it and stepped into the entrance room with its twelve different doors. They had gone in a circle.

"What now?" asked Rookwood, still holding the door open in case Snape didn't want the room to spin.

Snape frowned as he looked hard at the door. They had gone in a circle, but if his calculations were right they had probably done a corner of the Department. He had to know which door was which though.

"Hold the door as hard as you can," Snape told Rookwood. Then he said, "Show me the exit!" The door one down from the Meditation Chamber's door opened, showing the empty corridor behind. "Show me the Room of Lost Things," and the door that separated the Exit and the Meditation Chamber opened. Somehow they had managed to go through the two doors directly adjacent to the exit. That worked out perfectly in his head.

"Ok, I'm going to open this door now," and Snape opened the door next to Rookwood. He smelt something burning inside, but ignored that for now. Rookwood was right; he was here to map, not explore. "You can close the other doors now," nodded Snape.

Rookwood closed his door and then the two others. With the door that Snape held open, the room did not spin. He walked through and Rookwood closed the door behind them.

"Ah!" exclaimed Rookwood, clearly recognising the room. "The Room of Elements!"

"Yes," agreed Snape. He had memories of this room. It did not just have 'lots of rocks' as Rookwood had so delicately put it, but had all of the elements as well, including the Element of Magic. He carefully walked down the narrow hall until he came to a four-way crossing. The one side of this crossing must be the partition within the Meditation Chamber. He walked down the right and was overcome by water gushing at his feet. It was a miniature sea in a room, waves slowly lapping backwards and forwards. He could see the end of the corridor and no door above the waves. Perhaps at low tide a door would present itself but he doubted that very much. He turned and walked straight only to come face to face with a mountain spurting lava slowly out into an endless pit. That too was a dead end. He turned back and followed the crossing straight. Rocks grew out of the ground, their sides splintered with glistening precious stones. He climbed agilely up the rocks and reached another door, Rookwood panting behind him. He opened the door and was greeted by more steps that he carefully walked up. The floor levelled out and he saw a door along his left. Snape looked at the corridor he was in; it continued around a bend. He turned to the door and opened. Inside were rows upon rows of red cushioned chairs, set one slightly higher up than another. An aisle led down the centre of the rows. The chairs all faced a blank white wall. The room was dark.

Snape looked behind him; Rookwood was not too impressed by this new room, but shrugged his shoulder and pointed for Snape to do the honours.

Snape walked into the room and sat down on a chair. As if on cue, a static noise began somewhere above him and an image appeared on the white wall. The image was moving. With a shock, Snape realised what the image was showing: it was _him_! When he was little! But this was not right, this image. It showed him with four other boys as they threw snow at each other. They were spending Christmas together at Hogwarts and had the whole grounds to themselves. They laughed extra hard as a stray snowball flew through the air and landed in Hagrid's great beard, and then they ran for cover as Hagrid joined in the game.

"Is this your memory?" asked Rookwood who was still standing.

"No," whispered Snape as a tear slowly rolled down his face. He had not let himself dream of that reality for years after his third year. After that time he had known it would never come true. He stood up and the rolling sound above him halted with a scratchy noise. The screen showed him and his four friends at Hagrid's warming by the fire with tea and rock cakes. The screen blinked a few times then went white again. Snape looked at the room hard, not knowing whether it was the most wonderful thing ever, or the worst possible punishment one could endure. He left silently, Rookwood tailing after him.  
"Before you ask, that was the Theatre of Dreams. Nothing in there could do us any good," and he stomped off down the corridor. They came to an arch with exquisite detail carved into it, as well as a Latin word that Snape translated: "Life".

They walked under the arch and found out why; the room was covered in flowers of various different sizes and colours. Their perfume littered the room with contrasting smells. And in each flower, Snape could see a small baby forming. In some, they were human babies, and in others were calves and ewes and kids and kittens and cubs and pups and everywhere he looked he was surrounded by the awakening of life! And as he watched, he saw a baby grow a little bit bigger and fall from the stem holding it to the flower. He reached forwards, scared for it to fall, but it landed on the ground before he could save it. The little baby cried a bit, but then the soft earthen ground slowly opened up for it and absorbed it. Snape watched as the form of the baby was sucked into the earth and then travelled up the stem of its flower, and its shape squeezed once more out through the petals which blossomed anew.

"And this?" asked Rookwood who stood at the centre of the room by a glistening pool. Snape stared into the pool and felt joy enter his heart.

"The Pool of Life," Snape said slowly, not daring to believe his own eyes. "For all those who must still join the world."

"I don't like it very much," commented Rookwood. "It gives me a bad feeling."

Snape wondered at this. He felt overjoyed when looking into the pool. Then again, his Guardian had also given him a good feeling but had left Rookwood feeling like a child about to be scolded. Best to move on, especially since they were running out of time.

"The Room of Life doesn't appear to have any doors that lead out of it. We must go back to the Entrance Room the way we came."

Rookwood didn't need telling twice and they walked quickly back under the Arch, passed the Theatre of Dreams, and through the Room of Elements.

Once back in the circular Entrance Room, Snape again asked Rookwood to hold the door open as he called out the various rooms he knew lead from doors. "Show me the Exit, the Room of Lost Things and the Meditation Chamber." The three doors next to the Room of Elements popped open. Snape nodded his head as he reassured his memory of each of the rooms and their shapes. Then he turned to the next door and opened it and commanded Rookwood to close all of the other doors again. They walked through the new door.

The corridor they were in sloped downwards, a few stone stairs littered their steps when the gradient was really steep. The corridor wound to the left. Then wound to the right. And still further down they walked. Snape began to worry about this new room. Only things very powerful were ever kept so far underground; that was why he did potions in the dungeons after all. Then Snape saw a doorway illuminated by a flickering torch. It was dark down the corridor so Snape gratefully picked it up. He walked into the awaiting room but turned quickly as Rookwood gave out a shriek of pain.

"Rookwood!" Snape turned and tried to run back to the Death Eater, but the doorway now held a barrier over it. He could not get through. He could see the Death Eater turn on his heal and sprint back towards the Entrance Room as if fire was eating at his legs. He breathed. The man would make it alive. What he had to worry about right now was himself.

He turned to the room before him only to be puzzled by what he saw. It was not a room. It was a cavern. The walls and floor dripped quietly with moisture, while large stalactites and stalagmites grew from the floor and ceiling, each one a wonder on its own. Snape walked carefully through the cavern, careful not to touch anything. Something was in here that was calling to him. Something that had been waiting for him for a long time. He walked to the centre of the room and saw a large chest of silver and gold. Once more there were runs on it that he could not discern, although they were not quite as harsh-looking as the runes he had seen on the Pillar.

All of a sudden he was immensely aware of his beating heart. In fact, with every step that he took, his heart beat one step faster. What was that around the chest? No, not around, but _oozing out_. The chest was holding something back. How could he let it loose? How could he free what was locked inside? He was standing over it now. How did he know he had to let it loose? How did he know what was inside this chest was the most magnificent treasure in the world? How did he know that he would not die if he opened this chest? Then again, he would probably die if he did not.

And so Snape stooped down and unlatched the chest. Carefully he opened it. The power that was inside swept out. It was as if a tide was free from the pull of the sea. As if the power rolled down stream, willing to fill the whole cave up with its embrace. He felt its burn. He felt its heat. He could feel himself greeting it, loving it, and he could feel his fear of it. It was so great! No one could stand up to this power! This magic! His heart was going to burst. All of the love he had ever had for anyone was, in this moment, multiplied. No, not even multiplied. It was as if every single person's love for anyone and everyone and anything and everything was inside him, flowing through him as this multitude of power flowed around him. It was love. Love. No power could beat this. No power could withstand this!

And then Snape had a frightening thought; what if someone could wield this? He had to close this room to everyone! There was a reason this power was locked in that chest, but he knew now that he had released it that he would not be able to get it back in. What _could_ he do now?

Protect it. He could protect the world's love. Why had it not killed him yet, considering all the hate he had in him? Maybe because his love was so much more? He loved Lily totally and unconditionally. He loved Hogwarts, his only home. He loved the Headmaster and all of his intricacies. Yes, he was filled with hate, but that only made his love stronger. He loved his Slytherins and his ghastly Godson Draco. He loved making potions and the moment before the magic filled them. He loved watching children grow and learn, even if they were Insufferable-Know-It-Alls from the start. He loved red hair. He loved Ginny's smile.

And then it was not the power around him falling into him, but rather _his_ love cascading out into the air around him. He never knew he could draw on his love like this. He never knew that love was even this powerful. And yet it kept on flowing from him in those flares of magic that he was so used to. He was full of love and that was why he was so strong. That was why he would prevail until the Dark Lord was destroyed. That was why he would give up his life ten times over. It was all for love.

And then the stalactite above him started to drip on him slowly, its salty water mixing with the tears that were flowing freely from his face. They were tears too; the tears saved from all of the loved ones around the world who have cried for those who they have lost, or found, or never had. These were the tears of love. His tears were probably in the mix already. This was the Love Cavern. And now, no one would be able to use the power of this place for any use at all. It would carry on collecting the love around the world and it would be protected forever.

He let his shoulders slump and then walked back out of the Cavern. This time, the doorway let him through. The Magic followed him in a red haze as he slowly trudged up the steps that had lead him down to the Cavern. Still the Magic followed him like a puppy following its master. He got to the door, opened it and closed it behind him before his own Love could make it back into him. Just because he had given it up did not mean he could not still love. It would take him some time, but he would fill himself up again with that warmth and that magic and that power. Love was endless. Boundless. It could not be let go unless the person stopped loving. He would never lose the Love that he had for others, nor would he ever give up on it.

The doors did not spin. Snape was grateful; he did not want to open the door that lead to the Love Cavern. He turned to the door and carefully traced his wand over it, muttering a Charm of Closing.

"What was that?" asked Rookwood. Snape jumped and turned around simultaneously. He had forgotten about the man completely.

"A room filled with magic of a type I have not encountered before," answered Snape.

"Why didn't it burn you like it burnt me?" he asked seriously.

"I don't know," Snape answered honestly.

"Well either way, while you were busy gallivanting with unknown substances, I did a bit of snooping myself. Look," and he held up a large sheaf of paper. Snape stumbled over to him, his body exhausted by its outpour, and shuffled through the papers. They were results of some kind.

"You said this place has both a floor and a roof level, right?" asked Rookwood. "Well I think that these papers refer to the roof level. Look at Section 12 point 1 – it's a report on Saved Things. That must be the opposite of the Room of Lost Things that we saw. And it goes onto Section 12 point 2; Senses Study. That matches with the Room of Senses."

"You've done well Rookwood. This means we only have to map out the bottom level of the Department. Where did you find these papers?"

"I did say that I worked here you know. There is a Head Office, I just couldn't remember how to get there. So I worked the other way around from the Exit and wound up in the Experimentation Lab. You _don't _want to go there; animals of all sorts in jars and even, I swear on my Death Eater Mask, a human. And I would _not_ want to do _that_ to a person, no matter how much I enjoy torture. Anyway, from the Experimentation Lab is the Head Office. It links to the Planetarium and I followed it back to here, just in time to see you drag your sorry rear-end through that door. I thought you were dead for sure."

"Thanks for your concern," said Snape sarcastically. But Rookwood had helped; his memory was good too and he just had to do a quick Legilimens to find out what the man had seen. "So we have seen the Exit, the Room of Lost Things, the Meditation Chamber, the Room of Elements, the Room I've Just Come Through (he would not mention its true name in front of Rookwood), the Experimentation Lab and the Planetarium. Show me the Exit!" and the Exit door sprung open. "You went through this door and came out through that one?" questioned Snape. Rookwood nodded. That meant they had missed a door in between. He walked towards it and opened.

This was a noisy room. It bustled with magical activity. Items kept dropping down from metal chutes to land along a conveyor belt. The belt travelled the dropped items in a maze of a circuit and then let them fall into various metal bins. The conveyor belts intersected every now and then and the item would go from the one to the next so that it was dropped into the right bin. Another conveyor ran along the roof, the items someone magicked not to listen to gravity and fall to the ground. This conveyor led right into a tall pipe that exuded heat. Every now and then a _boom_ came from the inside of the pipe.

"The Dispensary," said Rookwood. "I remember talk of this place. All of the failed experiments or reports are sent here to be gotten rid of."

"And these two doors?" enquired Snape.

"I have a hunch," shrugged Rookwood but walked towards the door along the far wall in any case.

Snape followed and wound up in a room that smelt strongly of sick. Jars larger than he was lined the walls. A green gloop was inside each jar as well as a form of creature...he shivered as he saw a large bubble slowly rise through the gloop, the bubble's edge travelling along the torso and then the head of a human male. Rookwood was right; the Experimentation Lab was no joke. Snape quickly scanned the room for its measurements and then followed Rookwood into the Head Office room. It was a small office but Snape supposed there was more to it on the Roof Level. He walked through the other door in the office to the Planetarium. Now _this_ was an experience! Weightlessness. How brilliant! He really should create a potion that allowed for this sensation! Or perhaps there was one already. It was not the same as a Levitation Charm, but perhaps a modification of that? He visited Saturn and stared at the huge planet before him. Oh how Firenze would love to be this close to the Stars and the Planets and the Moons! The Centaur could probably spend hours drifting through this copy of the real thing. Snape noticed a thin tube-like place to float through. There was a door here floating in the blackness. He used his momentum to drift towards it and grasped the handle. As soon as he had his hand on the brass, the weightlessness disappeared. He was back in the Dispensary. So the other doors, where did they go?

He went back into the Planetarium and followed the tube to the first door. He opened this one and saw the circular entrance room. So the ones along the side of the tube must go to another room. He counted four doors on this side. He would enter the first door and count how many were in the new room. That way he could discern whether there were any more rooms beyond that.

He opened the first door and stood in a long rectangular room. It appeared empty except for a few desks and, Snape had to look twice but he was quite certain of it, a large glass tank with _brains_ in it. The tank was filled with green liquid not quite unlike the liquid in the Experimentation Lab. Snape very dearly wanted to poke one of the brains, but he noticed long tendrils floating eerily from each one. _Thought_. That's what these brains were for. This was all about thoughts. He walked to one of the desks that had papers on it and shuffled through them. Each one had the header and footer of the Department of Mysteries, but as he reached for a folder he saw the heading "Psycho-Magical Corridor: Amended Rules and Regulations". This was a _Psycho-Magical_ Corridor? He'd never heard of such a thing, but then again this was the Department of _Mysteries_. He should not be so surprised. He looked again at the room. Four doors ran along the room. So the Planetarium had four doors that lead into this room and that was the end of it. But then Snape saw another four doors on the other side of the room. The door at the far end must lead back to the entrance. He checked none-the-less and was not surprised when he was right. He turned back to the other four doors. Apprehension dawned on him suddenly. He did not want to go through those doors. He did not want to see what they hid. This place did not just have mysteries. It had nightmares as well.

"What you waiting for?" Rookwood said as he stepped carefully into the room from the Planetarium. Snape had almost forgotten about him but was glad that he hadn't.

"I don't think I'll like what's behind these doors," said Snape truthfully.

"What? The great Bat scared of what's hidden in the Department of Mysteries?" scoffed Rookwood.

"You're a fool if you're not."

But he grabbed the handle and turned. Before him was a massive room, perhaps as large as half a quidditch pitch, and at the centre of it, down many stone steps and reaching up from its pit was a stone dais supporting a stone Arch. The veil covering the Arch flitted for a moment and Severus heard his name. He knew. There was no doubt about it. The Dead were calling him.

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**(A/N: _So before I get yelled at, this is NOT the last of the Love Cavern. It will play a part in the next chapter. I had a bit of an internal struggle about which was more important in terms of Severus; the Death Chamber or the Love Cavern...Please review! I'm very nervous about this chapter. I might just take it down and do it all over. I have to admit I had fun mapping out the Department though and making up my own rooms. Anyway, WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off)_**


	23. Chapter 23 Department of Mysteries P2

**(A/N: _And presto! Another chapter just like that! Alright, alright, it's not a loooong chapter. But the Department can only go on so long. Read and enjoy! WonderWhiteRabbit Hopping Off!)_**

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**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 23: The Department of Mysteries: Part 2

"I never thought I'd see a place like this..." whispered Rookwood. His fear was tangible but there was another look in Rookwood's eyes that made Severus want to gag. What was it? He couldn't place it, but either way he didn't like it.

His own heart was beating as fast as the flaps of a hummingbird's wings. It wanted him to flee from this place. But he could not bring himself to move away from the doorway and back the way he had come. Instead, his legs willed him forwards. He dropped from his step to the lower one and then again to the one after that. His steps echoed in the large chamber. The Death Chamber. And he could hear the dead whispering to him from behind that veil. That arch held secrets long forgotten.

"Where are you going? Snape? What are you doing?"

Snape realised he was standing on the edge of the dais, the arch rising upwards with grand splendour. He didn't know how he had gotten so close so quickly. But now he could hear the whispers a lot louder. Almost clearly, but there were too many! So many dead! He couldn't make out the one from the next. They filled his head with a whisper that turned into the hiss of an ocean, like listening to the inside of a shell. But this shell was cracked because every now and then he heard the real thing; a real word.

"Killed"; "Murdered"; "Sacrificed"; "Innocent"; "Watched"; "Nothing". The words filtered out. Were these the words of those he had killed? That he had murdered? That he had sacrificed? The innocent that he had not been able to save? Those that he merely watched as they died because he could not do anything to save them? Where he did nothing...

And then he heard other words...words that he never thought he would hear from the dead.

"Sorry"; "Understand"; "Please"; "Help"; "Revenge"; "Protect"; "Trust" and too many more. They overran the negative. They consumed him with their purpose. The dead held him in their embrace and he gathered their meaning. They are sorry that he must bear the brunt of their anger. They understand he is good. Please continue. Do not give up. Help those that he can. Get revenge for those that have died. Protect those who are left over. Trust. In others. In him. In them.

The dead, long unable to fulfil their dearest wishes and dreams, were asking him their last request; he must do anything in his power to put an end to this struggle.

"Easy for you to say!" he shouted, no longer aware of Rookwood's presence. "You're already dead!"

"For us..." the words whispered. It was in unison. All of them. They all wanted to rest in peace. But never would knowing that the living world was not at peace.

Severus' head dropped down onto his chest as he felt his eyes burn with tears. He was the damned. He would continue to work for the dark just to bring a further end to the very presence that consumed him. He understood now better than ever; he would bring about his own demise. When the dark ended, so would he. But it was ok. The dead waited for him. They would not take him until the time was right.

Something hit him across the face.

"As much as I like hitting you, I don't appreciate all of these blank-out phases of yours! Next time I'm just gonna leave you be and hope that that veil sucks you up!" Rookwood panted before him, his outstretched hand ready for another slap in case the one was not enough.

Severus shook his head, anger flowing through his veins at the man before him. How many of the voices coming from the veil were from the lives that this man had taken? They wanted revenge. He and Rookwood were alone. Surely he could start his journey of vengeance right now? For the dead to see and appreciate? He could make this man hurt. He could make him cry for his past sins. Beg for mercy. Cry until he was sorry for his guilt and had to go through the pain of remorse. For there was no pain like that of remorse.

The veil flickered and folded over itself in a non-existent breeze. He understood. This was not the right time or the right place. The dead would see and know when Rookwood died, as well as the others. As well as him.

"If you are just going to leave me, then why bother taking me out of my reverie in the first place?" snarled Snape, his anger suppressed as he let it flow through his venomous words.

"For one, I don't know how we're getting out of this place. For another, the Dark Lord would not be happy with the half-image I can give him of this place."

"Ah yes," sneered Snape, "always looking out for yourself aren't you, Rookwood?"

"Tch!" but he didn't make eye-contact with Snape.

Snape used one of his own methods of Occlumensy. He started with his toes and slowly clenched his muscles, moving slowly upwards through his calves, his thighs, his stomach, his chest, his arms, and then he clenched his hands into balls of solid fists. Then, at the same time, he let everything go. His anger dissipated with it slightly. His head was now cleared of the emotions he felt for Rookwood as well as those from the veil. He would not forget their pleas. But at the moment he could not do anything with anger bubbling at his surface. Wasn't that always what he was telling Mr Potter? Control your emotions!

"I have the scope of this place," Snape said once scanning the room carefully. Four doors from the Psycho-Magical Corridor. One in the corner that must lead to the entrance room. There were eight more doors, four along the two other walls. He wondered for a moment whether he should go for the doors right away or make his way back to the entrance and see to the doors that he had not yet gone through. No, he would see to this room first, just as he had done the others.

He walked up the stone steps, only realising now how high each step actually was. How many more rooms did he have to go? They hadn't even made it to the Hall of Prophecies yet. How much time did they have left? Oh, shit! How much time did they have left?

Three hours. That was all they had been guaranteed. They had wasted so much time! Surely Dumbledore could give him a bit more? The older Wizard had obviously left the Department of Mysteries unguarded; perhaps it would remain so for a little while longer. What had he been doing this whole time? Gawking and acting like a first-year in every room, that's what he'd been doing!

No time. No time to finish! No time to complain! No time!

But he had to finish. He would _not_ come back here again next weekend! This was the _only_ Friday night that he would give up for this stupid task! And no Saturday or Sunday was going to follow! He would see the whole department. He would map it out on that damned paper that the Dark Lord had made. And then he would be back at Hogwarts in his comfortable castle, surrounded by blithering dunderheads that could do little more than blow up a cauldron or two.

He was at the door and yanked it open, barely aware of Rookwood chasing after him. Snape stepped into the room, blinking in the glittering lights. What room was this?

"Ha!" exclaimed Rookwood, panting for breath but smiling with recognition. "The Time Room! _My_ old workplace!"

Snape saw a large shelf along the side wall covered in glistening gold sand in small glass bulbs of different shapes. Time turners, he realised quickly. There was a strange ticking noise throughout the room as well and he saw an old grandfather clock, ancient in make, leading the other clocks in the room by half a tick. Even though there were so many clocks in the room, however, he could not have told anyone the time; each clock was set to a different time and as such let off chimes and booms and coo-coos at random intervals. His eyes were drawn to a large sand-turner, a bird slowly aging, dying and then being reborn within it. He carefully drew closer to it and realised with a shock that there was no glass holding the time in place; anything could fall through into the never-ending circle of time within it. He looked quickly around the room again. He was surrounded by time and it only reminded him of how little he had left. Rookwood was opening the doors along the side of the wall, checking all four of them.

"They all lead back to the Death Chamber," he announced and then turned to the next wall. The Time Room was a long and slender room with doors lining either side, however it didn't look as if the doors went anywhere: the first three doors that Rookwood opened led into small offices.

"These are like my old one used to be, just smaller," he grumbled as he moved to the next door.

Snape merely watched the man snoop around, edging himself closer to the end of the room. It was a moment before he realised he was standing right next to the case with the time turners. His fingers itched. You had to go through a lot of paperwork to get a timeturner. Even more so if you were a suspected Death Eater in the past. He'd probably have to get Dumbledore's written permission to apply for one. And then there was no guarantee that he would get it... who would know?

Snape blinked, not even realising that he had done it already. A small pocket-timeturner was securely sitting in his robes, no one any the wiser to his deed. He was surprised that his past in Spinner's End came back to him so quickly. It had been years since he had last pick-pocketed someone. He was probably rusty, but right now that made no difference.

"Oi!" called Rookwood, his arm holding open one of the doors in the middle of the room. "This one here has another door at the other side of it."

Snape strode up to the small office and saw that it did indeed have a door on the other side of it. The office made a small corridor between two different rooms.

"Well, make it quick! We don't have much time left!" Snape snapped.

"Says the one who's been in a stupor half the time," muttered Rookwood. Snape ignored him; he had better things to do.

They pushed through the door to the next room and Snape had to try very hard not to gawp again. He forcibly closed his mouth and instead allowed his dark eyes to scan the room.

But to be honest, he couldn't make out much at all. It was much too busy! He could tell they were in a library. He could also tell that the library's laws of physics did not apply. Stacks upon stacks of rolled up parchment were settled easily on shelves that lined the roof, walls and floor. Stairs started from the ground and made their way upside down so as to address the records suspended along the just-as-upside-down ledges. To add to the chaos of the Library of Records, there was a horrible crunching sound coming from a large printing machine that was spewing out newer and newer records by the second, the noise joined by self-propelled trolleys that were wheeling the new records to various parts of the library.

Snape knew he would get lost in the maze of parchment. Really, there was only one thing that he could do in this room. He quickly accosted a trolley, "Excuse me," he said to it, his foot stuck out so that it would not roll past him, "do you perhaps have a map of this wondrous library? So that I may find some records easier?"

He was pulling at straws, he knew, but he had to try!

The trolley just tried to move past him with renewed vigour. Snape tried a different tact then, "Alright, alright! But could you lead me to any other exits in this room?"

That stopped the trolley for a moment. He saw it shift a wheel forward and backward, as a person would from foot to foot. What was it with wizards and making inanimate objects into thinking beings?

The trolley appeared to come to a conclusion and turned around. Snape immediately knew it was going to oblige to his request. Rookwood glared at it uneasily, but Snape merely nodded his head for the trolley to lead the way. He took as much of the Library of Records in as he could, but honestly there was too much to see. He knew he would remember it all, but if he saw it all was a different story completely. The followed a pretty straight-forward path, only straying from their diagonal course once to make way for a stream of trolleys all laden with rolled up blank parchment making their way to the printing machine.

They came to a black door. Snape had seen others like it; one in the Time Room at the far end of the room, and four in the Death Chamber. He guessed they all lead to the same place, however considering how far apart all of the rooms were, it would mean this next place was very long, if not big as well. Snape was tired of immense rooms now. This last Library of Records did not appear big because it was so full of movement and noise, but he knew if he had not asked the trolley's help they would have struggled to make their way through it, if not getting horribly lost along the way. But, if his calculations _were_ correct, then he had a pretty good idea of what lay behind this black door.

He first asked the trolley if there were any other doors, and the trolley, actually annoyed at him, quickly wheeled off and returned carrying a small rolled up parchment. He unrolled it and scanned its contents, a smile tugging at the side of his mouth. He handed the parchment back and thanked the trolley, which gratefully wheeled away from him for the last time.

"What was that about?" asked Rookwood, not at all impressed at being left out of the joke.

"I was just informed that there are three doors in and out of this room. One to the Entrance Chamber, one to the Office Corridor which leads to the Time Room and this one here which leads, surprise surprise," he drawled, "to the Hall of Prophecies."

"But why were you smiling?" demanded Rookwood, now annoyed.

Severus gave an exaggerated sigh. He wondered for a split-moment if he were really the drama-queen Dumbledore sometimes claimed he was, but flicked the thought away with an irritated sneer. The sneer, unfortunately (or maybe fortunately,) make Rookwood very angry.

"Answer me you prick!"

Snape growled. He didn't have time for this, but it would be quicker to answer than to argue.

"That parchment was a recent development in Records. It stated that Severus Septimus Snape discovered that there were three rooms that lead into the Library of Records and proceeded through the third. I was laughing, you idiot, because this room was Recording _our_ movements too! This room records _everything_! The whole of _History_ is probably in this room if people were only willing enough to place it together!" Snape had a quick thought of someone who might just want to do that, but he pushed Hermione Granger quickly out of his mind; thinking of one student only lead him to think of others, and Ginny Weasley in his head right now was not a good combination when he needed his wits about him.

Snape was dimly aware that Rookwood was spluttering.

"But then we should destroy everything in this room!" he shouted, pulling out his stolen wand. Snape quickly drew his own, ready to stop the idiot from doing anything more stupid than he had already.

"By Salazar Slytherin, you are an imbecile!" stated Snape, although his hand did not relax around his wand. "You honestly think that anyone is going to find anything in this room about us? I bet you would not be able to find that last record unless you asked for it specifically! And how is anyone going to know what to ask for if they do not know about it?"

He saw the doubt wiggle its way into Rookwood's eyes. He had a point, but then again, Snape always did.

Before Rookwood could change his mind, Snape turned to the black door, twisted the round knob, and walked into the Hall of Prophecies.

Row upon row (upon row upon row) of shelves stood before them, each one stacked from floor to ceiling with dusty round orbs. Some glittered dimly, obviously still relatively recent, whereas others were merely gray balls underneath a life-time's worth of dirt. The very hall smelt mouldy from lack of upkeep. Obviously no one cared for this Hall, nor for its contents. It was a surprise anyone took notice of this place, never mind the Dark Lord himself. But now Snape had another issue; how to find the Prophecy that referred to the Dark Lord and Harry Potter?

He thought back to what he knew about the Hall of Prophecies; Bode knew the placement of the Prophecy. He had been ordered, under the power of Lucius Malfoy's feeble Imperio, to remove the Prophecy. But that had not worked. The Prophecy could not be removed by anyone who it did not concern. So this prophecy could only be removed by the Dark Lord. Wait. Not just the Dark Lord. Potter too. He too could remove it. But how would Potter, of all people, make his way to the Ministry, down into the Department of Mysteries, _through_ the Department of Mysteries, all the way to the correct aisle in the Hall of Prophecies to finally, after all that, remove the gray flickering orb? It could not happen...no...it _could_ happen, but it _would not_! He would not allow it!

A number flickered into his head, the memory distorted by the method that was used to retrieve it. Ninety-seven. Row ninety-seven held the Prophecy. Directly in front of him, clearly labelled underneath the grime, was row eighty-one. It continued to the right to row eighty-two. He followed the aisles to the right. Eighty-three, four, five, ninety, ninety-six. Ah. Ninety-seven. Now, where along this aisle was that stupid prophecy? He looked carefully along the shelves and saw that they were labelled by date. If he remembered right, he had to go further down the aisle. He followed his memory, coming to an abrupt halt as he stared at the item of his search. The Prophecy lay before him, covered in a thin layer of dust. A mystical face swirled around inside the ball, only her extremely large glasses giving any indication as to who she may be. Did Professor Trelawney know of her true Seer powers? Probably...why else would she have such high regard for herself? Or maybe there were other reasons that he was not taking into consideration? He did not know, nor, really, did he care to find out. Right now, what he did have to find out was what other doors there were in this Hall. He ran to the end of the aisle and then the length of the Hall. The numbering along the rows went as far back as minus thirty eight. He spared no thought to the odd number; these things often had a reason if one really wanted to find out. It continued past ninety-seven to one-hundred-and-twelve. Snape knew if there were more prophecies that more shelves would appear. The larger numbered shelves held much cleaner orbs, therefore much more recent prophecies.

He checked the doors as he went now. There was the door to the Library of Records. There were also four doors nearer to the smaller numbered rows that lead into the Death Chamber. One door lead into an office which Snape pictured in his head as next-door to the other offices in the Time Room as a door directly next to the Office lead into the said Room.

Snape breathed a sigh of relief. He knew it all. He knew the Hall of Prophecies. In fact, he knew all of the rooms on the lower floor of the Department. He was not too sure of the Roof level. If indeed it was any different to the floor level, he did not have time right now to find out. If the Dark Lord needed that information – or any other Lord of his – then he would have to come back some other time. But not any time soon. He honestly did not like this place.

He turned, grim in his success, and faced a twitchy Rookwood.

"We're done, right?" he asked as his eyes shifted from side to side.

"Yes," drawled Snape, not about to show his own nervousness. How were they going to leave here now?

But then Snape felt his arm grow warm; his Dark Mark was reacting. His eyes, wide with sudden knowledge, slowly closed. He placed two fingers to the mark, and, with a surge of power running through him, he felt the Dark Lord's summon. He was sucked through the vortex, the tube of Disapparation squeezing him tighter than he had ever felt before. Something was trying to stop his disappearance, but the power of the Dark Lord was too strong. He could have sworn his body was being ripped in two, torn between where he was going and where he was leaving. But his mind was set. He needed to get out of the Department. He was being called. He followed that call, pulled ever onwards by the black skull now searing on his arm. Through all the pain, through all of the suffocation, he could still feel the heat radiating from his arm, twisting pain through the limb. The pain let him keep his mind and he landed with a pop, in a pile of robes on the ground, before the Dark Lord. He did not care for the cry that left his lips on the landing.

In fact, with half of one's calf missing, one does not care for much at all.

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**(A/N: _Out of the frying pan...into the fire! Poor Sev! But he can't leave the Department without a parting gift of course! Let me know what you think! Reviews make my day! Oh, speaking of Reviews: please please PLEASE allow for PMs! I cannot reply to some reviews because the PM option has been turned off. But I do think I should mention a few things here quickly: Yes, there is a history between our dearest Lily and Sev, No Sev is not Harry's Father, No Ginny is not removing Snape's past memories, Yes Occlumency lessons will commence soon enough, and Yes you will hear more from Ginny's side of the story! Once more, let me know what you think! Sorry for the short chapter, but it had to get out there! WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off!)_**


	24. Chapter 24  Restless

**(A/N:_ I give you...dum dum dum dum! My longest chapter EVAR! Initially it was going to be two different chapters, but I put my foot down, yes I did, and instead you have one wonderfully long chapter! I expect reviews! For one, they make me smile, and for another, I get to hear exactly what you guys think! WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off.)_**

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**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 24: Restless

Ginny Weasley. She was Ginny Weasley. She was not some delinquent student who couldn't put two and two together. She had brains. She could think. But she couldn't think by herself.

She needed him badly tonight. She craved his simple touch to make her head stop spinning. The longing for Harry Potter had rumbled to life inside her suddenly, and she had sat bolt upright in bed. She wanted to run her hand through his hair, grip it tightly, and show his bare neck to her lips. She wanted to dip her fingernails into his fragile skin along his back and leave long gashes down his sides. She wanted him so badly right now that it was painful. Only Harry Potter under her power would take away this wanting!

Which is why, at this very moment, she really needed Professor Snape. She was going to do something especially awful otherwise. But she knew that Professor Snape was not here. She had seen him leave. She had waited, although he had not asked for her to, but she had not seen him return. What time was it in any case?

She flung her legs over the side of her bed and pulled her curtains open roughly. The pang that flew through her brought her to her feet and it took her a moment to stop her body from running into Harry's dorm right that moment.

_This is your own damn body for Godrick's sake! Control yourself!_ Ginny berated herself. _Think your own thoughts! Harry. You need to get out of the dorm. Harry. You need to go now! HARRY HARRY HARRY HARRY HARRY!_

She was down the stairs that lead to the common room. She had turned herself away from the opposing stairs. She was pushing open the portrait of the fat lady. It shut behind her with a thud.

And she breathed.

The incessant call in her head subsided to a soft whisper at the back of her mind. _Harry..._it said, but she ignored it. She needed to get away from him right now. She needed Snape. She needed Snape!

Ginny wasn't aware of where her feet were taking her. In the past she had not questioned them. When her head was so full of _other_ thoughts, they had never failed her. It was as if a part of her mind had sunk as low as possible, nestling snugly within her ten toes, so that when she was out of control they could take over. She found herself in front of a blank wall. She blinked.

The Room of Requirement. What would it give her when she couldn't even think straight? For the first time in her life, Ginny did not want to find solace in the room. She wanted physical touch. She wanted to feel someone against her. She wanted – NO! STOP THINKING ABOUT HARRY!

There was only one thing more that she could do...and she actually didn't want to do it. She was using them. Every single boy that she ended up with she was using to get rid of these thoughts and cravings that she had for Harry Potter. Neville may have been the first, but he was by far the last. But there was nothing else she could do now. Her head was pounding somewhere near her temple and her eyes were watering from the constant throb. Her whole body was shaking. She hadn't been this bad in ages. Why was that? When was the last time she had wanted Harry Potter so much? She forced her sluggish brain to work along her memory. Last year. Definitely last year. Harry had disappeared with Cedric Diggory into the Maze during the last task of the Triwizard Tournament. Then it had started. She had thought it was the silly girl in her coming back to haunt her. She was worried because she couldn't see anything that was going on in the Maze. She wanted Harry to win so badly, but at the same time did not want him getting hurt. And then it had hit her so hard that she had been winded. The longing. She had ended up in the hospital wing for most of the task, only finding out later that Lord Voldemort had returned. If Harry was the Boy Who Lived, then surely Voldemort was the Man Who Would Never Die.

And before that? She made herself remember more. Before the third Task, had she felt like this again? Not like this...there had been a few times that the longing had come up more so than normal, but this was on a whole other level. Think. Further back. Surely it had been worse than this before? What had she done?

First year. Valentines.

No, don't think about that.

Yes, think about it! Don't hide from it! It was what caused this whole thing in the first place! The diary.

Her breath hitched in her throat. No, she couldn't think of it. She couldn't bring herself to face it. It hurt too much. She could feel it tearing at her insides. The pain. The tearing. The utter heartbreak.

And then the love. The forbidden love. Riddle. He had been a diary, as inanimate as the Room of Requirement. But she had been taken in by his words. His understanding.

Further heartbreak.

She needed help. Right now. Her mind was whirling. She had stopped walking. She didn't know where she was. She clutched her hand to her heart, digging her nails into her skin. Something was horribly wrong, but she could do nothing. She knew now. She had last felt like this during her first year. And no good had come of that. Something _had_ to be wrong for her to feel like this again!

Surely Riddle didn't have control over her again?

No, she remembered everything that she had done the past few days. Some things clearly so. She shivered slightly thinking of her lips softly touching Snape's hand. What nerve did she have to do something like that?

It was helping. Thinking of Severus Snape was helping her longing. She stumbled to a stop, finally taking in where she was. The kitchens. They had often been a place of consolation for her. The smells reminded her of the Burrow, and the house-elves never shooed her away. She was welcome there.

She carefully walked towards the painting that guarded the entrance to the kitchens and tickled the pear. It turned into a doorknob and she stepped through, allowing her senses to be engulfed by the kitchen.

Smells and noises and warmth. Yes, it felt like home to her hear in the crowded kitchens.

"Can Dobby help miss?"

She blinked as she looked down at the bobbing elf. Dobby. He was another survivor of her first year. Maybe he could lend a sympathetic ear?

"Hot chocolate, please Dobby," with an image of Severus Snape offering her a biscuit she added, "And some chocolate chip cookies. The one the Potions Master likes."

"Potions Master Sir's elf will help too! Potions Master gone, and Eyrie not happy alone."

Ginny blinked. Professor Snape had his own elf? Who better to talk to about Snape than his own elf, who, probably, wasn't allowed to say nasty things about her master?

She was ushered to a seat and a steaming hot cup was placed before her, filled with creamy hot chocolate. She liked the hot chocolate here best because they used dark chocolate, not like at home where they could only afford the lesser milk chocolate. There had been a few times, though, when her mum had taken out the darker slab and added a few chunks into the mixture for when Ginny couldn't sleep. It had been a while since those days when she had run to her mum. Ever since Hogwarts she had learnt not to talk about her issues to anyone – not even to a diary.

_Pop_.

She jumped slightly, but smiled warmly as she looked at the little elf before her.

"Miss want chocolate chip cookies like my master's?" asked the elf.

"Yes please," nodded Ginny, and then dared, "I want to think about him."

The elf nodded her head.

"Eyrie understand!" her ears flapped like a bat with no control, "Eyrie like to think about master too! Master is neat and tidy, and has certain places for things. He do not like when Eyrie touch chess board. But he very demanding. He a good master. He likes strong coffee early in the morning, but on his desk. Not allowed in master's personal room. He take out dirty clothes and put in basket and leave basket for Eyrie in bedroom. Eyrie clean bedroom, but not much to do because master do not sleep much." She looked sad as she said the last part. Ginny frowned slightly at the elf. Maybe the elf had made a mistake, but from what the elf had said...she had better make sure.

"You said you weren't allowed in Snape's personal room. But you clean his bedroom. Are they two different places? Maybe you think he isn't sleeping because he sleeps in his personal room instead?"

Eyrie's large forehead creased as she thought about it.

"Maybe Miss right," she nodded eventually, "but Eyrie do not know how to find out. Eyrie not allowed in personal room."

"Is anyone allowed there?"

"Eyrie do not understand Miss."

"Did Professor Snape forbid anyone else from going into his personal room?"

Ginny's heart was beating somewhere in her throat. What was she doing? She was trying to get into Snape's 'personal' room, that was what she was doing. She never knew that teachers had rooms other than their quarters and their office and their classroom. Then again, she hadn't ever been into any teacher's quarters except for her Head of House's and that was only in her first year when she had gone into the wrong dorm room.

"No, Miss. Master only say Eyrie not to go into special room."

"So...if, maybe, _I_ went into the room, I could find out for you if he were sleeping there or not. Because I'm sure you're worried about him if he's not sleeping."

"Eyrie very worried, Miss," the elf nodded her head sadly. "And if Miss goes to personal room, then Eyrie will be very happy. And Miss can go to room because Master never forbid it."

"See? I won't be breaking any rules or going against anything that Sev-Snape said. And I only want the best for him."

Her head had calmed down a bit. The whisper that said _Harry_ was slowly sinking into the back of her mind. But she knew the moment she stepped out of the kitchen and headed back to the dorm that it would start up again. She wanted sleep, but if she went to Madame Pomfrey she knew the old mediwitch would just give her a pepper-up potion and send her on her way. And, a small part of her said, if she went to Snape's personal room, she might be able to think clearer and not have to take any potions at all. Being in his presence always made her head clearer, so maybe being in his room would do the same.

Eyrie bobbed up and down before her.

"Yes, yes, yes, and Miss can tell Eyrie what in the room and then Eyrie can know what to give Master to clean properly. He use the same cleaner on everything and that not good."

Ginny smiled and quickly finished her hot chocolate, grabbing a cookie from the stack that Eyrie had brought with her.

"Then lead the way Eyrie."

The moment she stepped outside the kitchen, the thought in her mind perked up like an animal sniffing the wind. _Harry_? It questioned. _No! Not Harry! Snape! Not Harry? No. Snape._

She pushed the thoughts back, bringing an image of the potions master forwards. He had long greasy hair. She still wanted to do something about that. Maybe while she was in his personal room she could find out what shampoo he used? He had a long hooked nose. His eyes were black and sparkly. She wondered if he ever needed glasses? Maybe reading glasses? She would find out, although she had never seen him reading essays with them. His teeth were slightly yellowing, and she guessed his molars were worn down from grinding them in fury so much in class. They were also slightly unevenly placed, his jaw probably too small because it was pointed. He had angular features, she decided. They were all sharp and pointy, as much as his sarcasm and wit. Wit? Yes, the Potions Master was witty; especially with his sarcasm. Ginny remembered a Muggle saying, "Sarcasm is the highest form of intelligence but the lowest form of wit." Was that really true in the form of Severus Snape? Yes, he was definitely intelligent. But was he really not funny? She didn't think so. Sometimes the Twins found out the ingredients they needed for their jokes much too easily, and she highly suspected the Potions Master. Maybe it was because he didn't want them blowing the whole school up, but either way he was helping them invent.

"We here Miss. Stay quiet!" the elf had been leading Ginny downwards, further into the dungeons than she'd ever been. Before her was a large statue of a woman with snakes in her hair. She recognised it as a Gorgon, although instead of Medusa this statue was labelled "Venus". She had never heard of the Gorgon before, but she supposed it was a famous one as there was also a long pendant around the neck with star-like stones shining in it. The necklace was only given to Gorgons who were acknowledged by Wizards; it allowed them to walk with humans without turning any to stone.

"We has to answer riddle now," said Eyrie, and she stood on tip-toe and tapped the circular pendent. The stars turned from glittering diamonds to a dark ruby. The snakes on Venus' head slithered ominously to life, standing on end and hissing. Venus turned her face to Ginny, her eyes the same colour as the stones around her neck.

"When one cannot trust oneself, who does one trust?"

Ginny blinked. This sounded like the questions you had to ask to get into Ravenclaw tower. She knew because she had to sneak in there a few times to meet with Michael. But the Ravenclaw questions were all about logical thinking. This was Slytherin. She had to think like one. Normally she would have answered "my friends," but did Slytherin even have friends?

"You trust no one," she answered.

The snake-headed woman looked at her hard and her eyes slowly changed to green. Ginny watched in fascination as the rubies changed as well. A snake slithered onto the wall and arched around gracefully, leaving the grooves of a door behind. It finally fell still in the position that a handle would normally have been.

She had answered right; she had access to Snape's quarters.

Carefully she gripped the stone handle and pushed open the door. Before her was a still room. Eyrie walked confidently inside, Ginny stepping carefully after her. The door closed behind them with a dull thunk, and Ginny jumped slightly. Never had she felt so much adrenaline. If she was caught here, she would never live to see another day. She would probably be done in on the spot and her body left here in the dungeons for the sewer rats to nibble on.

"This is it here, Miss," Eyrie was pointing to a blank wall. Ginny carefully stepped forwards. The wall looked innocent enough. There was no statue or lever to trigger a doorway though. How was she going to get through? She asked Eyrie, but the elf's ears drooped.

"Master never tell Eyrie because Master don't want Eyrie in room. Eyrie cannot appear in Master's room because Eyrie has not got permission to enter."

Ginny bit her bottom lip in frustration. She had come all this way though, so there was no way she was going to give up now. She stepped towards the wall and stared hard at it.

When she had been taught by Lupin, and she had touched him, she had known instinctively what he was. When Moody had grabbed her arm when one of her spells had gone awry, she had felt something in him that told her that he wasn't who he said. She had a weird power. She had something in her that let her know about dark magic and dark creatures. She knew it. So now she could use it. Right?

She put her finger to the wall. It was cold to her touch. But she could feel something else. She could feel the touch of magic on it as well. She remembered the one class they had had in transfiguration, in which they had been transforming birds into hangers. She had asked McGonagall if the birds would be alright once they had been transfigured back. McGonagall had told her that they would be fine physically, but that there was always a trace of magic left over once it had been done on something. It wore off after time depending on how strong the magic was, and how much the wizard tried to hide its effects afterwards.

So if Severus Snape, or someone equally powerful, had done the magic to make the way to the personal room, then the magic should be pretty easy to follow. She somehow doubted that the wizard – or witch – who had done the magic had been particularly worried about a student _following_ the magic.

Her finger felt for the beginning of the magic. She followed the tendril of warmth that flowed through the stonework. There! She had found the beginning! Now she just had to follow it through to the end. Do what the magic told her to do.

Her hand ended up making a large arch over her head. The wall melted down, her eyes wide in amazement. She had done it!

"Oh well done Miss!" squealed Eyrie behind her. Ginny smiled in thanks.

"I may be a while, Eyrie. I'm sorry. I won't move anything or mess anything up. How's about tomorrow I come to the kitchens for breakfast and then you can serve me while I tell you what I've seen?"

Eyrie's eyes glistened with sudden tears and she lunged at Ginny with her tiny arms, hugging her tightly by her midriff.

"Miss is too good to Eyrie! All Eyrie wants to do is make sure Master has all he wants and Miss helps Eyrie! Miss helps Eyrie!"

Ginny gently patted Eyrie on her back until Eyrie let go and pushed Ginny through the doorway she had just found. The doorway slowly melted back together, Eyrie's large eyes the last thing that Ginny saw before she turned forwards again.

Alright, she was nearly there now. Already her head was clearing more and more. She didn't know if it was because she was near Severus Snape's personal room, or if it was just her own adrenaline pouring through her every fibre. But she didn't want it to stop.

She was in a tunnel, lit with dim green lights. It was eerily pretty, she thought, but knew in other circumstances she would see it as scary. She followed the stone stairwell upwards. It twisted slightly, but never veered in any one direction. It was almost as if she were climbing up a tower; a hidden tower within Hogwarts that no one had seen or heard of.

She came to a door. It was wooden and curved at the top. Small vines were carved into its edges and the brass doorknob was a petal. The door was unlocked. Ginny carefully let herself in, noticing that the door did not squeak, but rather gave a low drone.

It was a circular room, hardly littered with furniture. To her right there were two comfy chairs, sharing a small table between them. A thin mat lay on the ground to cushion the sitters' feet from the cold stone floor. A bed, its headboard pushed up against the wall and curved to fit, stood proud but dark. A bed light hung down over the cushions in a long arch that could obviously be moved downwards for the reader or to the side for sleep. A bedside table showed a small pile of daily prophets and a well-worn book. At the bottom of the bed was a dark chest, its top covered in a green velvet cushion so one could sit on it. Ginny noticed that the whole room was done in a deep green and dark brown, except for the bed which was black. She almost felt as if she were in a forest.

Directly to her left, fitting snugly against the wall, was a large bookshelf that towered upwards to touch the roof. It had grooves around the edges. Carefully, Ginny stepped into the room towards the centre of the shelf. There were two oddly shaped knobs in the middle of the shelf. She touched the one and had to step back quickly as it reacted and a part of the shelf swung open to reveal more shelves on the back of that which had just opened. It was a shelf within a shelf! Not wanting to disturb the books (after studying in the library, one learnt that books could bite! And do other nasty things too.) she closed the shelf to its normal state.

She moved on around the room, following its circular shape. Next to the bookshelf was a long worktable, a hard wooden with a soft cushion pushed in. Above the table were shelves with various books and piles of rolled up parchments organised on it in some sort of order. There were also a few ornaments that she stopped to look at, but she didn't touch any. She frowned at some empty picture frames standing in a partitioning. Why keep the frames empty? She reached her hand out towards them but paused. This was personal, even if the frames were empty. She wasn't here to snoop – not too much at least. The next item in the room was a cabinet filled with vials of non-identifiable liquids. Something grossly slimy was swimming around in one tube while another cylinder was filled with tiny eyes that stared at her despite being amputated from their bodies. She closed that cupboard too, not wanting to get involved with any of the ingredients. A work table joined directly onto the cabinet, cauldrons and stands of various sizes carefully stacked underneath it. This was where Snape must do his personal brewing, Ginny decided.

She couldn't help opening the next cupboard she came to. This was Snape's Clothing Cupboard. The left side was completely taken up by black cloaks and wizard's robes. But the right made Ginny's eyes lift. So he _did_ wear things other than black! A dark red cape hung limply next to its black robe that had red cuffs and collar. Next to that ensemble was one almost exactly the same but in a midnight blue. Why did he never wear them? They looked like quite handsome robes to her – even in fashion. Then again, Ginny wondered if Severus Snape ever had the opportunity to wear anything else other than work clothes. There were shoes at the bottom of the cupboard; dragonhide boots looked the most worn out of them all. She raised an eyebrow slightly in surprise as she saw a pair of shiny formal shoes. They looked almost brand new, maybe never even worn yet.

Moving on, Ginny froze as she detected movement. But then she laughed out loud; she had come to a tall mirror framed in a dark wood. The mirror swivelled both from side to side and backwards and forwards. Ginny couldn't imagine the dark Potions Master looking at himself in the mirror ever, but having it in the room gave her hope that he still cared for his physical wellbeing.

There was an opening into another room then, the entrance covered by many hanging green beads of azurite. They tinkled as she walked through them. Ginny was now standing in a bathroom, tiled in a light green and beige. A medical cabinet stood to her side and a basin with a mirror in front of her. She looked through the medical cabinet, smelling Snape's shaving foam, his deodorant, his toothpaste – pretty much anything that she could get her hands on. She moved further into the bathroom and saw a large tub standing on curved green legs. It was white and clean. On its edge was a wash-cloth as well as a tall bottle that held thick goo. Ginny couldn't help but smile; Snape liked bubble baths! In the corner was a triangular shower with four shower heads pointing towards the middle of the area. Ginny wondered if Snape stood there being pelted by water from all sides. She sometimes did that. She put the water on as hard as she could, sometimes as hot as she could stand it too, and just let the water fill her ears with its roaring and feel it cleanse her. Baths were great if you just wanted to relax, but if you really needed to be _clean_, then a shower was your only answer. Along the wall she noticed two towel hooks hanging over a big woven basket. She lifted the lid and saw dirty laundry. This must be the basket the Eyrie had given to Snape so that he could put his dirty clothes and sheets in it to give to her. Turning, she saw another chest, except this one was a bit taller and not as broad as the one lining the foot of Severus Snape's bed. She opened it too and was surprised to find cleaners and a collapsible broom. Snape cleaned his own room. And probably made his own bed. Not like the rotten students who had everything done by the house elves. She made her way out of the bathroom and found herself next to the bed.

It was black. Out of everything in the room, it was the only thing devoid of colour. But in a way that suited it. This was where the great git slept. This was where he dreamt and had nightmares. This was where all his walls came down. And when that happened, this bed mirrored whatever was inside of Professor Snape. The blackness, the solitude...the lonliness.

But the best part about black was that it swallowed you up whole. You lay on it and immediately it felt like night around you. Like there was nothing else there. Like you didn't have to worry about being alone because there was no one else to be with in any case.

Ginny didn't know when she got onto the bed. She didn't know when she crawled under the heavy duvet. She didn't know when she snuggled into the pillow. She didn't know when she fell asleep.

. . .

Snape was in a bed. His head was spinning slightly, but he forced himself to sit up. Where was he? The room was much too bright for him, the large windows that covered a third of the room drawn open to let in the glaring sunlight. It was morning. His brain was acting slow. He hated it when it took him time to think! He was _not_ a morning person. Without a shower and his coffee he could barely function. Tea was good too, but it never felt like a good enough kick in the mornings.

"I see you are awake," he blinked towards the voice, sleep lining his eyes. It was a woman with long blonde hair and a pointed face.

"Good morning to you too, Narcissa."

A tight smile curved her lips; she never could hide when she was pleased.

"I take it you would like the usual for breakfast?" she enquired, the perfect host.

"As strong as you can get it."

"Be careful what you wish for, Severus. I have found some delectable beans in a recent trip south, and having my coffee weak is the only way I can take the bitterness."

"It is nice to hear of something more bitter than I am," smirked Snape and Narcissa's smile stretched to include the other half of her face. She looked almost pretty to Severus. Almost.

"Oh come now, Severus. No one as young as you should be so bitter."

"On the contrary, I am thirty six. That is six years over young, and into old."

She raised a delicate eyebrow.

"Are you implying that I am old?"

Snape laughed, hiding how forced it was behind a yawn that he covered with his hand.

"I would never dream of saying that you, Narcissa, are old! Your beauty far outweighs your years, and, might I be bold enough to say, will continue to do so for many more years."

He was pleased by the blush that travelled up her neck. With colour in her cheeks she appeared younger than the forty one years she actually was. Being dour was really not her thing. He remembered being a first year and Narcissa had to give them the tour of the common room and the castle. He had been stunned by her grace and her smile. She was upperclass, beyond anyone's reach but Lucius Malfoy's.

"As always your words contradict your appearance, Severus. One would think you were beyond flattery, and yet there you sit."

Severus looked down into his lap, feigning embarrassment. Eventually he looked up.

"Yes, here I sit. Where exactly do I sit?"

"You are in one of our spare wings at the Manor. Do you not remember?"

She looked worried – Severus could always tell by the way the side of her cheek would sink inwards slightly as she bit down on it, and she would not make eye contact but stare at a spot on his forehead. When he had first noticed, years ago now, he had thought there was something on his head and had excused himself to the bathroom. But there had been nothing on his head, and nor was his appearance in any way beneath the level Narcissa expected of her guests. And then he had watched her more closely and found her weak spot when lying. He could read her well after all this time.

"Why so concerned, Mrs Malfoy?" he asked while his brain thought quickly. What _had_ happened? How had he ended up here?

"Let me bring you your coffee. I'm sure you'll be more awake then." She left the room and Severus was alone.

He looked about himself now. What was he _wearing_? Gold silk pyjamas? How did he get into them? Wait, how did he get here? What was the last thing he remembered?

His mind offered him flashes that streamed through his head, one vivid memory after the other: the tunnel into the court room in the Ministry; the spinning doors in the entrance chamber to the Department of Mysteries; the various rooms with their complexities; the size and length and width and contents all bashed through his mind in a jumble; the Love Cavern; the Death Chamber; the Hall of Prophecies and then...then what? He had put his hand to his Dark Mark, the Dark Lord summoning him after his three hours were up. How had the Dark Lord gotten through the barriers to allow him to disapparate while within its walls? Ah, but it hadn't worked right, did it? No. He had been splinched.

Thinking of it, he pulled the bed covers off of him and pulled his leg up with his hands to look at the damage. It felt alright at the moment. Actually, there was a certain numbness about it that was quite pleasant. He was about to pull the pyjama pants up when Narcissa returned, levitating a tray behind her.

"I would not do that if I were you," and she wrinkled her nose slightly. "The balm we had to put on your wound is not the best smelling. Your pants are the only thing we could connect the Air Restraint Charm to. Have your coffee first, then you can see to your wounds."

Severus obeyed, although he really did not care for smells. After some of the potions that he had to brew, there was hardly anything that could make him gag. He settled himself back down on the bed and pulled the sheet over his legs. The tray rested on the side table and he gratefully took the black coffee. No milk. No sugar. Just the way he liked it.

"So I take it you have remembered your little adventure?" enquired Narcissa.

"It appears I have. How is Rookwood? I daresay he can't be worse off than I am?"

Narcissa once more sucked in her cheek. She was going to lye to him now, or at least give him a partial truth.

"The Dark Lord has not let him leave the Mansion, not until you and he have completed your mission. He awaits my call as to when you are ready for him."

Severus spread his arms wide, indicating that he had nothing better to do, and said, "What the Dark Lord requires of me I can do right where I am. I would be grateful for you to inform our great Lord that I am ready for the next stage of my task as soon as he needs me to proceed."

Narcissa smiled honestly now. The Dark Lord was obviously impatient with the set back of Severus' injury.

"I will have a house elf help you into robes. You must move as little as possible, but I suspect you will have your own potions that you want to take for your wound. I will inform our Lord shortly, so please do be prepared."

"Do not fear, Mrs Malfoy. I will be my usual dashing self," he smirked and her smile reappeared with a slight shake of the head.

As she left the room, Severus sighed and flipped the sheet off of himself once more. He pulled his leg upwards and with a slight breath lifted the pyjama pants. They were wide and easily slipped up over his knee. He looked on in wide eyes at the lack of leg before him. His leg was there, yes. But just barely. He had splinched off his entire calf. He couldn't make out the proper damage though because a thick bandage drenched in a balm was wrapped around his whole lower leg. With short breaths he began to undo the bandage. As he lifted off the balm, the numbness slowly disappeared and was replaced by a dull throbbing pain. With each breath he felt his leg beat with blood.

The bandage was off. Severus mouth twisted in disgust and humiliation at his own deteriorated form. It was made even worse by the bubbling of his own flesh as it knit itself back together and reformed, slowly replacing his calf muscle and leaving behind a pink scar. He wondered who had given him the Muscle and Tendon Replacement Potion – of all the potions that could make him gag it was that one. The only issue, and here he frowned, was that although the potion helped put back muscles and tendons, it did little about ligaments. They were an issue if ever he had found one; ligaments did not grow or heal. You got one and then if it snapped or was destroyed, you had to have an implant. The implantation process was not a nice one either. First of all they had to duplicate one other tendon, then transfigure it to fit the damaged body part, and then they had to insert it into the body and attach it in the right place. The whole thing was off putting. He would much rather just develop his muscles to take over the stupid flesh's point in the first place.

But this was not so good. The knee had four main ligaments...and at least two of them, from what he could see, had been removed from their proper positions. Maybe he didn't have to have the implantation process, but he did need to have them reattached.

An elf popped into existence carrying, Severus was grateful to see, a bowl of the foul smelling balm and new bandages as well as plain black robes. He noticed they were not his and were new. His old ones were probably soaked in blood and Narcissa had taken it upon herself to replace them. He sighed at the charity. Really he hated pity, but he would accept it from Narcissa to stay in her good books.

He struggled to get the robes on and eventually the elf forced him into allowing himself to be levitated and then for the robes to be magicked onto him. House-elves could really be pushy sometimes when they had a job to do, and Snape knew when to back down. He was settled back onto the bed, now with clean sheets on it, and took to spreading the balm over the new bandage and then wrapping up his leg. He placed the Charm that Narcissa had mentioned over his robes and the smell of the balm slowly disappeared. Not moment later the door opened.

Snape felt the chill run up his back before the Dark Lord even stepped into the room. He hastily pulled the sheets off of himself and tried to move so that he could kneel, but he found himself forcibly frozen.

"Severus, do not be thick headed," whispered the cold voice, "you are injured. Please stay where you are."

Severus had very little choice. He was frozen in place, his hand still gripping the sheet and in mid push with his other.

"Ah! Rookwood, I am glad you could join us!" Voldemort's eyes blazed a slightly darker red as Rookwood stepped into the room. From what Snape could see from his position on the bed was that Rookwood was perfectly fine. Why had Severus not been brought back safely?

"My Lord," Rookwood bowed deeply.

Voldemort tapped his wand and two chairs appeared beside the bed. In another tap Severus felt himself released from Voldemort's spell. He was shaking slightly as he slumped downwards but quickly righted himself and smoothed down the sheets.

"Forgive me my rudeness, my Lord," Snape looked down at the sheet, his composure one of disappointment.

"Ah, my loyal servant," cooed the Dark Lord in a hiss, "you are always so eager to please. I will allow the usual formalities on your part to be reduced, temporarily."

"My Lord," and Snape bowed his head lower in submission, "I thank you for your generous understanding. I will repay your kindness."

"You can repay me that kindness now," hissed the Dark Lord quietly and Snape quickly looked up. "When I apparated you and Rookwood from the Department of Mysteries, I encountered no resistance from Rookwood, however I had to fight for you. Why did you not follow my call?"

Snape blinked in honest confusion.

"My Lord, I did no such thing. My only thought is that the Department was holding onto _me_, not I onto _it_."

The Dark Lord's red eyes never left his own, which were wide in surprise.

"Why would the Department hold onto you?" asked the Dark Lord slowly. Snape could see Rookwood desperately trying to hold onto his facial features as he watched the conversation unravel before him. Snape could not tell if he was happy about it, or genuinely disgusted.

"My Lord, perhaps if I told you the tale of our mission while I drew out the map, our questions will be answered?"

The Dark Lord eyed Severus carefully, before nodding his head a fraction of an inch. Parchment appeared as well as a quill with ink and it settled itself carefully down on his lap. With a breath, Severus picked up the quill, dipped it, and then began to tell the Dark Lord the contents of their mission, the whole time drawing out the map of the Department of Mysteries.

. . .

Ginny awoke slowly and stretched. For a moment she was in the blissful void between dream and sleep. And then she blinked her eyes and realised where she was.

With a quick shriek she had jumped to her feet, wand in hand, twirling about the room in sudden fear.

But there was no one else in the room. She was alone. She didn't like it.

Shaking her head, Ginny jumped over the bed and ran to the door, closing it carefully behind her. She rushed down the green tunnel, threw her arm in an arch over the entrance and then carefully sneaked out of Professor Snape's quarters.

Back in her own room, she let out a sigh and then proceeded to get clean clothes and head to the showers. She was surprised that her head was so clear, but she doubted it would last long.

With the water pummelling down on her, she finally thought about what she had done last night. She had slept in Severs Snape's bed. He would never know, but she would. Would that make a difference the next time she saw him? Surely she would be embarrassed?

Her thoughts continued as she made her way down to the great hall, only to stop herself suddenly. She had promised to take breakfast in the kitchen with Eyrie to tell her what she had seen. Sighing, Ginny turned her back on the raucous hall and instead headed to the kitchens.

Eyrie was waiting for her and Ginny was touched to see one of her favourite breakfasts set out on the table. She sat down and began gulping down her food; never get between a Weasley and their food! In between mouthfuls, she slowly pieced together what she had seen of Snape's room. She realised she had not looked in the chest at the foot of the bed, and nor had she paid any attention to the open space between the chest and the walls. The floor space had appeared empty to her, but she may be wrong.

"And did Miss clean the bed after?" enquired Eyrie after Ginny's explanation.

She froze. No, she hadn't. She had completely forgotten the reason why she had been allowed to go into Snape's personal room in the first place; because house-elves weren't allowed there!

"No," Ginny said honestly, "but that is because I'm not quite finished there yet. I'm planning on going back soon today. After all, it is a weekend and I need a quiet place to do my homework," and in her head she added _and be away from Harry. Harry. Harry._

She shook her head. Maybe spending some time in Professor Snape's personal room wouldn't be such a bad thing at all. Maybe it was just all of the protective spells about the place, but her head felt much better up in the Hidden Tower.

Eyrie nodded her head.

"Miss is very good. Look after my Master when Eyrie can't."

Ginny smiled sadly, knowing that Severus Snape was the last person on her mind.

. . .

"So you see, My Lord, that is the Department of Mysteries," Snape handed the parchment to the Dark Lord, whose eyes travelled every inch of the map that Severus had drawn. It had taken him a few tries to get the pieces to fit together, but his proportions were perfect and his detail was immaculate. That, in addition to the memories Voldemort had seen through his mind, allowed the Dark Lord to look marginally pleased. But there was still something amiss. And both knew it. Rookwood sat silent, barely adding a word throughout the meeting, although his eyes glared at the easy way Severus communicated with their Lord.

"I am pleased, my Spy. You have done well. But we still have the issue..."and his voice went deadly quiet, forcing Snape to edge closer to the beast, "of your departure."

There was silence for a few moments. Severus wanted to speak, but knew better than to interrupt the Dark Lord in mid thought.

"Perhaps," said Voldemort after a moment's thought, "this Love Cavern," he spat the words, "has more to it than we think?"

"The Love Cavern, my Lord? It is merely a room filled with, well, _love_," his voice was high with disbelief and unconcern.

"Your pet Dumbledore," said Voldemort, "would think otherwise, my Spy."

Snape scoffed and his mouthed curved into an amused smile.

"I'm sure he would, my Lord, and most likely look over every other room and its possibilities while he was at it."

The Dark Lord's teeth showed. It was that grin that he used when he was pleased with Severus. Snape allowed himself to smile broader.

"Ah, yes. I always love hearing your true thoughts on your other master. It reminds me of your loyalties. He is a fool. We have full agreement on that."

"Always, my Lord," bowed Snape at the waist.

"Do you think the Department still has a hold on you?"

Severus frowned. It was a good enough question.

"Give me a moment, my Lord," he lowered his eyes and let his power edge slowly out in tendrils, not very different from how he had done so in the Department of Mysteries. He felt the magic about him. It was all his...but a part of it was different. No, not different, just stronger. He pulled his magic back within himself.

"All my magic is my own, my Lord. I am not tainted by the Department."

"Good," Voldemort could see no lie in his words, for truly there was no falsehood to Snape. The magic was his own, and although the Department had changed him in a subtle way, it was in no way a taint in his eyes. It was a blessing. He was blessed by both the Dead and by the Loved. "You will be able to return to the castle later on this evening. I believe your wound," his lip curled up in distaste, "will be healed by then. I understand you may need an implantation. I will send our mediwitch merely to help with the process as I am sure you will want to take over."

Snape showed no emotion. The process would be absolute torture if he was awake, but he very much doubted if the "help" was any help at all. He would have to do it himself, otherwise run the risk of inheriting Mad-Eye Moody's wooden claw.

"Thank you, My Lord," was all he could manage before Voldemort stood, Rookwood scrabbling up quickly afterwards, and walking out the room.

Severus breathed in the silence. But he could not relax now; he needed to prepare.

Luckily for Severus, Narcissa Malfoy was all for his safe recovery. She followed his every word. When he had packed his satchel that Thursday night (was it really only a few days ago?) he had felt his potions would only be a backup plan and that his wand was good enough, but now he realised the foolishness of that thought and was grateful for the hearty inventory that Malfoy Manor always held.

The pain relief potion was the first thing that he brewed. It was difficult, cutting his ingredients on his lap and sitting sideways to stir and watch his cauldron, but he would rather trust himself to make the potion proper rather than someone else. He had also adapted it so that the potion would concentrate itself on his leg because the normal potion would make his fingers thick and movement would be difficult. Snape cursed the Dark Lord thoroughly in his mind as the potion came to its climax. It was good he was so good at potions really. Even though he loved the Dark Arts, potions had put some of his other attributes to work and as such he had adapted to be patient, to notice the small things, and to appreciate the more subtle reactions to certain ingredients. Of course, he was referring to different kinds of ingredients and different kinds of reactions than those one would see in potions. It was like watching Rookwood sit in the same room as he and the Dark Lord. When the Dark Lord was happy with Snape, Rookwood made very little motions, but as soon as the Dark Lord appeared to want to punish Snape, then Rookwood struggled to keep a straight face. Snape realised now the reason for this odd behaviour; Rookwood did not care much for the attentions of the Dark Lord, however he cared for power, and as soon as it looked as if Snape's position with the Dark Lord was falling, Rookwood would want to step in.

Did the Dark Lord see that too? Did he recognise Rookwood's true intent? Most likely; the man was a horrible liar. He smirked. So was he, if truth be told. The whole point was not to deceive oneself, then one could get away with murder. Literally. He frowned at his own thinking. It was not a good thing to be proud of, but he was a good Spy. He should at least give himself a bit of credit.

The potion gave a puff of pure white smoke that had no smell. The potion was ready. He quickly stopped the blaze underneath the cauldron and moved it to cool. That was all he could do on such short notice. He felt his leg throb a bit, but knew better than to concentrate on it. It was almost the same size as the other leg, but the new skin was pink and tender. It would harden into scar-like tissue. There was little that could be done about that. It would look like a pale birthmark if he was honest with himself, and that didn't bother him.

He picked up the Healing book that Narcissa had brought him on his request and looked over the procedure again. He had practiced the fastening charm on a few items with the right density and was pleased that he had gotten it quite well. He was not too keen on the incisions he would have to make, but he could live with that. The rehabilitation might take a few days though. He would have to make a few strengthening potions for himself to get through the next week. He groaned; he had Occlumensy lessons with both his students first thing in the week! He'd have to double his dosage.

Narcissa walked in, followed by a short witch with her hair in a horrendously tight bun. The witch looked no older than twenty. She had most likely never done a proper operation in her life.

"Severus, this is the witch offered to us by St Mungoes. I would introduce you, but names have been prohibited."

Severus nodded his understanding. He looked harder at the girl, there was something oddly off about her. He noticed it now; she was under a glamour of some sort. She must want further education in healing, but her current situation was not allowing for it, and as such she was taking under-the-radar jobs. He was not surprised, but instead began giving out instructions.

The silly dimwit got half of the instructions wrong, and forgot the other half. He took a steadying breath and shifted into teacher mode. He would have to do this slowly.

His wand was now in his hand, carefully directing a silver knife over his bare leg. He was pleased with how well the muscles and tendons had healed, but after a few diagnostic spells had discovered that the one ligament had definitely been removed in the splinch. The bone had grown back perfectly, but now was the tricky part.

He watched in fascination as the knife gently slithered into his flesh, cutting through it as if through melting butter, while he felt absolutely nothing. His potion had worked beautifully, relieving his entire leg of all feeling from his toes to his hip. The blood automatically bubbled upwards, but the mediwitch dutifully drained it away. He was grateful for the blood replenishment potion he had packed as he felt himself blink back black spots. The knife reached the point he had marked with his wand, and stopped. He transfigured it to prongs which then kept the skin apart. He could clearly see the loose ligament through the floating mirror he had placed earlier. He wondered momentarily how the muggle Dentists managed to work with mirrors all the time, because he was having to think carefully before making any movements. But then he began the fixing charm. The two ends were cleaned, they were scraped and then they were fixed down onto each other with a sweep of Snape's wand. The clamp was released and fell on the cover which had been placed over the bed. He leaned back heavily, panting for breath. The mediwitch, following her strict instructions, helped him drink the blood replenishment potion and then dropped a sizzling hot liquid onto the cut that the clamps had left. It smelt of burning flesh, but it bubbled up to the surface and healed over in a few moments.

Snape was pale with exhaustion, but was pleased with his performance. He had managed to perform the whole process without a proper mediwitch, completely awake, and without uttering a single cry. Alright, maybe the Dark Lord would not be pleased that he had used a potion, but he had never said otherwise. He would just have to punish Snape better next time for inconveniencing him like that.

The mediwitch left after doing some simple diagnostic spells and affirming that the leg was healing nicely. She also (the cheek of it,) recommended to Snape not to put too much pressure on the leg for the next few days and to be careful bending it too much too soon. As if he didn't know that already!

Narcissa had the house-elves clean the room and burn the blood-smeared cover.

He dosed for an hour. He only had to leave later this evening in any case. He would be happy to return to Hogwarts, and even happier to sleep in his own bed.

. . .

Ginny had not returned to Snape's personal room until much later that day. She had put it off and put it off as long as she could until she had spotted her own clean dorm and the guilt had become too much for her. She knew he wasn't back yet. He had said he'd probably be away the whole weekend! But she couldn't help feeling bad about leaving the place the way she had.

Frowning, she decided she might as well make her way there before bed time. She had eaten heartily in the great hall and slipped out quickly before the others. It was a Saturday night, and very few people went to bed early. She encountered no one on her way to the Potions Master's rooms. The Gorgon, Venus, slithered to life after she pressed the pendant around her neck.

"Who is the love of thy life," Venus asked.

Ginny stared hard. Remembering that she had to be answering as if she were a Slytherin, she said, "I love me."

Once more the eyes turned green and the snake slithered across the wall, bringing forth Severus Snape's quarters. She walked carefully through them, not wanting to leave even her footprints behind for Professor Snape to find.

She arched her hand over the wall where it melted away, giving rise to the ascending green tunnel. She followed it upwards and carefully opened the door into Snape's secret room.

There was no one there. She breathed a sigh of relief. She walked slowly into the room and retraced her steps of the night before. She had touched the shelf, but it looked the same as before. She had decided against the photo frames, so the work table was ok. The cabinet with all of its creepy contents was safe – she wouldn't touch that with a ten foot broomstick! The cupboard...she paused. She had looked through that, but had she left anything behind? She didn't think so. And so she carried on, through to the bathroom. Here she had meddled quite a bit. She opened the medical cabinet and looked at its contents. Surely she put things back where and how they were? She tried to remember. She had smelt this first, yes, she remembered it, and then put it back over, oh, wait, she _had_ put it back in the wrong place! Only after moving some of the items had she realised she must put it back just like it had been. So then, she bit her lip. This bottle, with the funny writing, had to go in the top corner. And this one had to go next to the tooth paste. That was right? Yes. It looked about right. But now this one...where did this one go?

Ginny was too busy looking at the tube of scar repellent that she didn't notice the bottle with the funny writing was sitting horribly skew on the shelf. It took a moment, but in that moment Ginny looked up, her mouth in a small "o" of surprise, as the bottle fell. She lunged for it, clumsily grabbing it from the air, but popping the cap of the bottle off in the process. The contents squirted over her face and into her still open mouth.

Spluttering at the disgusting flavour, she used her wand to scourgify the remaining contents of the bottle that was now on the floor. She put back the bottle, this time sure that everything was right, before quickly using the sink to wash off her face. She tried to wash out her mouth, but the flavour wouldn't disappear.

Sighing in defeat, she stepped out of the bathroom, hands on her hips. She looked about the room; she had not missed anything. All that was left was to make the bed and then scramble back to her own.

It was at about this point that Ginny started to feel slightly unwell. She was dizzy. She took a few steps, but that just made it worse. Her sluggish brain tried to think what was wrong, and all that came to mind was the bottle. She hadn't drunk any of the stuff! But maybe she had been contaminated by it none-the-less? She remembered something Snape had said to them once; potions don't have to always be ingested through the stomach. They could also go through shin. Shin? She didn't mean shin. She meant skin. And she had really nice skin didn't she?

A part of Ginny realised she was delusional. But another part of her just giggled at that. With a loud thunk, Ginny tripped over the bed and landed face down. She giggled at that too. She was just restless, that was all! She just needed to sleep, right? And then her eyes rolled in her skull and all was dark.

. . .

The moment Snape stepped towards his quarters, Venus came to life.

"How are you?" he asked politely. She was the guardian of his door and would never let in anyone with bad intentions.

"Oh, you know," she replied while a snake slithered around her neck, "the usual; stone hard and cold."

He sneered. Only Dumbledore could have given him a statue with as much humour as Venus.

"Any trouble while I was away? I know the first years don't always have smooth weekends, and I'm sure the fifth years are starting to think about OWLS."

"Hmm, yes. There were a few firsties, but I sent them on their way – to Pomfrey don't you scowl at me! Remember, I'm the one who has looks that can kill," and she flicked a snake out of her eyes.

"Anything else?" he enquired, not really waiting for an answer.

"Yes, actually. A red head came by twice. I let her in."

Snape spluttered.

"You did what?"

"Well she answered all my questions right, although I could tell her true answers. For _If you cannot trust yourself, who do you trust?_ I could see the answer glaring out through her eyes. Friends. And then for _Who is the love of thy life_, now that one I was quite surprised about, I could see her real answer wa-"

"I really don't need to know that, Venus!" snapped Snape. Venus just shrugged her stone shoulders. "Suite yourself," and Snape stormed into his quarters.

But everything looked normal. Nothing was out of place. An emotion gripped him then and made his stomach drop, his heart somewhere with it. He strode in two steps to his wall and swept his arm over his head in an arch. There was no way though...she would not know. She could not know!

He hurtled up the stairs, grabbed the petal-shaped doorknob and threw the door open. He stood breathing hard for a few seconds, his eyes taking everything in. He felt his leg twinge in pain – so much for resting and not taking stairs too quickly. But all looked – oh.

His brow furrowed in anger. He was boiling over. This was _his special room_! This was his _personal place_! He was safe here! Here was his _SANCTUARY_!

He was roaring something, but he couldn't tell what. He had yanked the blanket from under her, his breath was coming in hard lungful gasps, his anger was making his whole body shake!

But then he stopped. Something was wrong...she hadn't woken up.

"Ginny?" he was surprised by the concern in his own voice and how soft it was all of a sudden. He wanted her to very much jump up and yell "I gotcha!" but she didn't make a move. He felt her pulse along her wrist. It was slow but constant. He used a diagnostic spell to see her status, and she was fine. She was just in a deep sleep. How had that happened?

He looked quickly to his supplies cabinet, but it had been untouched. The only other place he could look to was his medical cabinet. But what could make her sleep like that? He opened the cabinet and started taking out all of the items in a rush. If she needed a counter-potion he'd have to do it quickly. His hand hit a bottle with slanted writing on it and he pulled it down. This could have done it! But...oh shit.

He hated swearing, but it looked like he was doing it more and more often. The bottle was half empty. Surely she couldn't have taken it _all_? Something must have happened and some had gotten into her system.

He put his hand over his eyes and rubbed at his temples. This was not going to be a fun night. The bottle held a concoction opposite to dreamless sleep; it _forced_ people to dream.

And knowing Ginny Weasley, these were not going to be idle dreams. Looks like he was in for a restless night.

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**(A/N: _I had an aweful lot of fun writing this chapter! Just a quick word, if there are any medical readers out there, I did look up a bit about ligaments and tendons and whatnot, and found that if a ligament snaps it really canNOT grow back by itself and has to be repaired using various operations. And those wondering how Sev can run up stairs after his leg has been cut off and put back together, I can only say: Hey, it's magic! Looking forward to hearing from you! WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off!)_**


	25. Chapter 25  Dreams

**(A/N: _New chapter! I don't own any of JK's brilliance, I only love playing with her characters :) Read, Review, and most importantly, Love! Wonderwhiterabbit hopping off)_  
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**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 25: Dreams

Severus was sitting in an armchair, his feet resting on the other. The twin chairs next to his bed in his secret room were a dark brown, the wood scuffed and the cushions well worn down. They had once belonged in his home, but he had moved them here shortly after receiving his secret room. They had been his mother's and although they had seen the worst days, they had also seen the best. Actually, these two chairs had seen Snape's whole life, from child birth to adulthood, from innocent to...not so innocent any more.

His eyes slowly began closing. He had thought vaguely whether he should not just sleep on his bed next to Miss Weasley, but then she had rolled over and that had settled it in his head; there was no way he could sleep with someone perpetually moving about on the bed. Even in his half-sleep state, he smirked automatically. The girl had some nerve finding out about his personal room. Eyrie had cried her eyes out when she thought that she had done wrong by Severus, and a patch of damp tears still on his cloak remained from where she had cried even more when he had forgiven her. Really, he could not blame the elf. He had not thought that she would tell anyone else about the room and as such he had decided that forbidding _her_ from his room was enough. He couldn't bloody well forbid _everyone_ from his room – not for lack of wishful thinking of course.

Ginny turned again in the bed and Snape's eyes blinked open again. Couldn't she bloody well sleep in one place? But then she moaned...

What was she dreaming about? The Dreamful Sleep potion was not one often used. People normally wanted to run away from their subconscious thoughts. But the potion _did_ help for those times when one wanted to remember one's past. The Dreams one experienced were not ordinary dreams: they were re-enactments of one's past. Of course, just because they were memories did not necessarily mean that they were not tainted by the subconscious. Dreams _were_ the subconscious and as such the element could never truly be removed.

He had a potion that he sometimes drank when he was in need of rest. He had used it earlier on in the year, but he tried not to rely on it too much. He had adapted it from the Dreamful Sleep potion, but so that it only picked up the lighter, happier memories in a person's mind and played that to the dreamer. Snape found that the potion acted better than a Dreamless Sleep potion, as that potion never allowed the brain to switch off and on properly like it should during sleep. But the potion that he took could also be adapted to the time the drinker wanted to spend sleeping, merely by thinking hard of the time frame before one drank the potion. The Dreamful Sleep Potion...it depended on how much got into her system, her muscle ratio, as well as the intensity of her imagination; dreams could suck you in and not let you out of them. Eventually you could be stuck in your own head. Unless someone helped you out.

Snape smirked again, staring at the sleeping form on his bed. Lucky for Ginny Weasley he was an accomplished Legilimens. If she got lost in her thoughts, he could very easily find her and lead her out. But he could only do that once the potion wore off. He wondered, not for the first time, what Ginny Weasley was dreaming about. The Dreamful Sleep Potion went through every single memory and combined them and distorted them, one memory becoming another in a blur of thoughts and emotions, continuously tainted by the subconscious' perception of the events. When he had taken the potion, he was told later that at some point he had screamed for five minutes flat, never letting up the volume. He did not remember any of that, only that his dreams had been frightening enough that any of them could have caused his reaction.

A blur of silver surfaced silently through the wall across from him, the bed separating himself and the patronus. He had been waiting for this.

"Make it quick, Albus. As you can see, I have my hands full."

The silver phoenix turned in a swirl of wings and materialised into the shape of Albus Dumbledore. Snape still wondered how Dumbledore could do that; he could only get his patronus to speak, and even that was pushing his limits.

"Do tell, Severus, what you are doing with a student in your bed?" even though the eyes were silver, Snape could still see that stupid twinkle shining through them hiding silent laughter.

"I would like to know that too!" snapped Snape, standing up with a flourish, his hair flicking out of his face and his nose pointing towards the roof. "I returned from my mission, completely exhausted, to find that my promised solace had already been disrupted."

Dumbledore's mouth twitched as he attempted to keep down his smile.

"Returned completely exhausted? It is not like Narcissa to let her guests leave before they are ready."

"Oh no, she was the perfect host as per usual," Snape rolled his eyes, "it was my _other_ _host_ that tired me out."

Dumbledore giggled at the pun but then turned serious.

"I would like a report, Severus," he said simply as the silver form drifted around the bed and sat on one of the chairs. Severus sighed and settled himself down to repeat what he had already explained to the Dark Lord, except this time he left nothing out. Dumbledore had to know about the Love Cavern. He had to know about the Death Chamber. And he had to know how both had affected him.

. . .

Ginny was running down the slope that lead to Hagrid's. At the last possible moment she locked her knees and skid down the grassy hillside to a standstill. She jumped with the energy of youth out of the way and behind a stone jutting out of the hillside just as three figures were walking up the slope. She stared with watered up eyes at the black-haired-boy. Harry was laughing at something Hermione had just called Ron, and was laughing even more as Ron tried to come up with a come-back remark. Ginny felt the urge to show herself to the trio, but then Hermione linked her arms through Harry's and Ron threw his arm over his best mate's shoulders. Ginny found herself crying. They were inseparable. She could never fit in with them. Their group was already formed.

The three had past her by now and she was watching their retreating backs. All of a sudden, Harry turned his neck around. All the way around! But it wasn't Harry that stared at her anymore; Tom Riddle gleefully showed his teeth, his whole face that of the young Dark Lord except for his eyes which were still a bright emerald green.

"NO!" shrieked Ginny and lunged for Tom, but it was too late. Tom already had his hands on Ron and Hermione. His hands turned to snakes which slithered over their bodies. Ron gasped out for breath as the snake squeezed him tighter and Hermione screamed as the snake around her reared. A rooster crowed.

Ginny was standing in a chicken pen, covered in feathers. Two dead snakes lay at her feet, and at first she felt triumphant, but then she saw that the snake's head was covered in red hair. She kicked it over and gasped as the empty eyes of her brother stared back at her. She stepped backwards but tripped and landed in a pool of blood. A dead rooster lay at her feet, its blood spread out in a carpet of red beneath her.

She screamed, and the pool reacted by growing larger, more dead birds being spewed up from the ground, their blood rising back up to the surface.

She closed her eyes, her hands crashed down on her face. She didn't want to see this. She had done all that. She had killed all of the roosters. She had thought that by burying them she could forget that it ever happened. But of course she never remembered it happening in the first place! When she had considered all the facts, she had _known_ that it was her, but how could she have done all of that and not remembered? And _why_ had she done it in the first place?

She looked at her blood smeared hands, horror stricken by her actions. Her hands were shaking and she gripped them to try and stop, but that just made it worse. She thumped her hands to her side, and she felt one hit something.

She looked down to see her diary lying quiescently by her side. She picked it up and opened it at random.

"_What's wrong Ginny. Why so quiet today_?"

She was still sitting in the pen, still covered in feathers, but the earth had sucked the roosters back up and had absorbed all of the blood again. In her lap was the black diary. She dipped her quill into her robe which was still covered in blood, and in red she wrote, "I'm being left behind again. Ron and Hermione and Harry keep on whispering together. They have a secret. I know it, but they don't know that I know it. The whole school knows it actually!"

"_What's their secret_?" the diary enquired.

"Harry is a parseltongue...just proves he's even more special than we all thought in the beginning."

"_Being a parseltongue doesn't make you special! You are special, Ginny. I can prove it to you. I can teach you parseltongue too! Imagine that! You and Harry, talking together in your own language that no one else understands! Almost like...a lover's language!_"

"A language just for us? That would be amazing! Harry might pay attention to me then!"

The diary snapped shut. She was standing in the girl's bathroom, staring at a tap. But Ginny was not all there. Her eyes were glazed over and they held a blank look to them. Ginny realised then that she wasn't herself – she was watching herself. A shadow in the same place as the original. She watched as her body acted, but as if it were being controlled by someone else. The red-headed puppet spoke a weird word, and with many clicks and hisses, a large hole appeared. Out of the hole slithered a serpent larger than any Ginny had seen before, but she felt an affinity towards it. Apparently so did the puppet-Ginny because it held out a hand that the snake nuzzled, as if a cat craving attention. She noticed that the puppet-Ginny's eyes barely blinked when staring into the large eyes of the basilisk. The puppet-Ginny spoke some more in that foreign language and the snake hissed in delight, hunger sparkling in its eyes. It slithered out the open door of the bathroom, free to roam the castle with its master's blessing.

Ginny found herself shaking as she watched the puppet-Ginny collapse on the floor. Under puppet-Ginny's arm was a dark black book, its pages slightly blurred with a dark power. Ginny watched in fascination as the black power ebbed slowly out of puppet-Ginny and back into the book, leaving behind a tired girl with no memory. She walked towards the book and tried to pick it up, but her hand touched puppet-Ginny's and she was sucked back into her own body with a gasp.

She opened her eyes. She was in her room, the diary on her lap, her quill dripping black drops of ink onto the open page before her, but no words came to mind. She snapped the book closed, a decided gleam in her eyes, and ran down to the great hall. She spotted Ron's red head immediately and dashed over to join him at the Gryffindor table. But as she sat down and saw Harry, all of her resolve left her. The more she tried to get words out, the more tense she grew. She got angry with herself! She was a bloody Gryffindor! But this was more than that. If she was right...then everything was _her_ fault!

"What's up?" asked Ron as he helped himself to another bowl of porridge. He hadn't even looked at her! What a brother he was! But she had to tell him. She couldn't tell Percy...Percy was a prefect and even if she knew of his relationship that wasn't enough to blackmail him into not telling on her. Thinking of Percy, she looked quickly up and down the table, but he was nowhere in sight. Her hands started to wring themselves as she thought of them in chains.

"Spit it out," she hardly heard Ron say, but it brought her attention back to her brother. And to Harry next to him. Oh dear! She shouldn't have looked at him! Now she felt even more shy, and guilty, and scared! The guilt won over: she had to tell them!

"I've got to tell you something," she mumbled, but made sure not to look at Harry. He would be so disappointed. He would hate her even! But it was the right thing to do. If it was her doing all of those nasty things, and if it was _her fault_ that the people were being attacked, then she _had_ to hand herself over! They could lock her up and stop her from doing anything bad anymore!

"What is it?" that was Harry, and her eyes raised ever so slightly to meet his. A shock went through her body that must have looked like a tremor. Every muscle in her wanted to reach out and grab him. She was scared of herself when she was around him. Especially because she wanted him so badly. She just...wanted him...there was no other way of explaining it.

But now she couldn't talk at all. She was too busy fighting her inner urges. Her head was filled with thoughts and words that she couldn't remember having, but they were making her feel _weird_. Powerful!

Ron said something that she couldn't quite hear, and then Harry leaned towards her. He was whispering something, but all she could hear were her inner thoughts. _Harry..._it said. The animal in her awakened, but Ginny bit down on it hard. She drew a deep breath, wishing that Harry would move away from her! Then she was saved! Percy!

Her mind snapped back to reality, and she jumped up as if her seat had set fire. She looked at Percy gratefully, her fear shining through at what she had just wanted to do, and then ran off away from the table.

She ran towards a tapestry and slid behind it, only to end up in a long tunnel that twisted and bent in all odd directions. She was in a long pipe! The pipe bent upwards, and a hissing escaped from her mouth. She was no longer running any more, she was gliding along something's back. It slithered towards the light at the end of the pipe and Ginny blinked as her eyes turned white.

She blinked some more. Her eyes felt sore and red. She was on her bed again, a box of tissues to her left and her diary to her right. She had wondered over and over again about her feelings for Harry. After speaking to him the day before, and _wanting_ him so badly, she had realised that she did not want him because she loved him, but rather because she hated him! This whole year all she had been trying to do was to befriend him, and he had not given her an ounce of his time! He hadn't _tried_. She had done nothing but try. She couldn't help it that she was shy around him! And then he talked to her only when it looked like she knew something! He didn't understand her, and he certainly was not interested in her!

There was only one person who was interested in her. She snuffled and wiped her hand over her eyes. There was only one person who understood her. There was only one person that she...oh no. She hastily pulled up the black book and opened it roughly. She grabbed a quill and ink and poised over the page. But she couldn't think of how to begin.

"_Tell me about your day, Ginny?_" asked Tom.

She sighed. Tom always knew how to make her feel safe again. She stared at the writing and loved how the words curled at the ends, and each one's delicate slant. She imagined the writer's hands, but stopped herself quickly. This was not good. But Tom would understand right? But could she be let down by two boys at the same time?

"_Ginny, please speak to me. What is on your mind?_"

Ginny grit her teeth and wrote: "I can't tell you Tom...but I want to...so I'll try. I think...I think something bad is happening. I think a few bad things are happening actually."

"_Well start at the beginning, and I'll try and help. You know I'll always try and help._"

"I know Tom. But that's why I'm so confused. I think, but it's crazy I know, but I think that," she closed her eyes, not wanting to see the truth of her emotions written out so crudely, but writing them anyway, "I'm in love."

"_With Harry. I know you are. We've spoken about this before._"

Oh how stupid she had been with Harry! Naturally he wouldn't care about _her_! Poor red-head Ginny who wasn't good at anything! She didn't care now. She would tell him!

"If only it were that easy!" she wrote. And then, in a furious scribble, "Tom, I think that I'm in love with _you_!"

"_Ginny..._"

She didn't want him to finish. If he didn't love her back, she didn't want to know. He was a diary, after all. It wasn't as if he could return her love in the first place.

"You don't have to say anything. I know that it's crazy! I know! I do! And I know that I'm a fool as well. Everyone has reminded me of that."

"_That's not what I was going to say. I just wish that I was with you. Then I could show you._"

"Show me what, Tom?" She was confused. Was this diary made with the purpose of never upsetting its user? Was that why it was saying all of this?

"_That I love you too..._"

None of that mattered now. He loved her. Her stomach did an odd loop and she started to cry tears of joy. She wasn't as bad a case as she supposed then, if Tom loved her!

"You do? Oh Tom! I didn't think you would! Not after all I've put you through! Not after all of the horrible things I think I've been doing! And after trying to get rid of you too...I'm so sorry about that, but I thought that you were going to tell Harry all that I'd told you, and I don't think I could have lived with that."

"_I understand completely Ginny. I wish I could hold you right now. And see your red hair for myself. And your perfect smile. And lips._"

"I wish nothing more than that myself! To actually be able to see you! And touch you!"

"_There is...well, I don't think it would be a good idea, but there is a way...if you were willing?_"

"I'd do anything for you Tom!"

And Ginny was sucked out of her body again. She watched as a black power, as dark as ink, oozed out of the blank pages of the diary, writing Tom Riddle's mind into her own. Her eyes went blank once more and puppet-Ginny was back. Shadow Ginny watched in fascination as puppet-Ginny stood and walked towards a wall in Hogwarts, and in her own blood wrote a good bye message to the world.

_Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever_

Shadow Ginny stared sadly at the words written in red. Red for anger. Red for hate. Red for love. And red for heartbreak.

She had been used, manipulated, puppeteered. At least, she scoffed as she followed Puppet-Ginny to the girl's bathroom and watched as Puppet-Ginny stood by the entrance to the Chamber, at least she had fallen to a master.

Then puppet-Ginny turned back to the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets and hissed the words to trigger its opening. But when the entrance opened, light flickered in Puppet-Ginny's eyes.

"Tom, I don't think I want to do this," the words whispered out. "No, Tom!" she said louder now. But Ginny could see the fight raging behind Puppet-Ginny's eyes was a losing one.

"I always thought it was you! After I started losing my memory, I only ever told you! And then you slipped up! I wrote to you and said that I was covered in feathers, and you replied and asked me what I was doing with roosters. I never said I was with roosters! I just said I was covered in feathers! You knew! It was you!" Puppet-Ginny started to cry now, but it was no good. Puppet-Ginny was too weak. Her eyes clouded up once more and Puppet-Ginny clambered through the hole, shadow Ginny not far behind.

They were in the Chamber now and suddenly puppet-Ginny fell to the ground as if all of her strings had been cut at once. She was at the foot of a large stone statue's feet, crumpled and bent like she had just been trod on by the guardian overseeing her. Ginny stared in horror as ink slowly seeped out of puppet-Ginny's skin in the form of long-written words. As the ink removed itself from her, puppet-Ginny's form faded more and more, becoming as white as marble. The words jumped from her skin and pooled themselves together on the ground, building themselves up into a dark form that slowly took shape. Tom Riddle stood before Shadow Ginny Weasley and stared directly at her.

"We could have had it all, you know. You and I. When I said I loved you...I really meant it," his voice was cat-nip to her ears and immediately Ginny's heart raced, but she knew it was all a lie. Every single word she had ever read out of that diary had been a lie, so any words he said had to be the same.

But then a loud clank sounded behind them, distracting Ginny from Tom Riddle before her, and in ran a twelve-year-old Harry. He ran directly to puppet-Ginny.

"Please don't be dead!" he kept on saying. Then he spotted Tom. "Tom! Please help me! It's not too late! You've got to help me Tom!"

But Tom had picked up Harry's wand and was twirling it through his fingers nonchalantly.

"It is too late for Ginny Weasley," he hissed, hardly hiding his smile as he watched the struggling Harry. He turned though to face Ginny. "She's long gone, and will never come back."

"It's not too late for me!" yelled Shadow Ginny, her anger overriding her sense of fear, "I will come back from you! I will heal! I _will _get better! You can't keep control of me forever!"

But Tom twiddled Harry's wand and the words "I am Lord Voldemort" burned into the air.

"You think you can get away from _me_?" and a horrible laugh erupted from Tom's throat. Shadow Ginny looked to the sudden scene before her.

Harry was running blindly, his hands outstretched as the Basilisk appeared from the statue's mouth. Fawkes had launched into the air and was striking at the snake's eyes. Harry had grabbed the Sorting Hat and slid it onto his head, and the next moment he had taken it off to reveal a long sword.

Shadow Ginny screamed as she witnessed the snake strike, and then again, barely missing Harry. It raised itself once more and thrust itself downwards at the same time as Harry forced himself forwards. The sword in Harry's hands dug into the roof of the serpent's mouth, but at the same time a fang found its mark in Harry's arm.

Shadow Ginny was crying. He had done all that for her...She turned back to Puppet-Ginny, surprised to see Fawkes tilting his head at her crumpled form. A few tears left the phoenix's eyes, dropping hot drops onto her skin, but they merely rolled off of her. She was too full of sadness for any warmth to come through. Then Fawkes did something odd; he took a hold of one of Ginny's long red hairs and plucked it from her skull. Puppet-Ginny didn't even flinch. Fawkes then swallowed the hair and began to glow red. He spread out his wings over Puppet-Ginny's form and Shadow Ginny watched in fascination as the red glow leaked out of Fawkes' wings and into Puppet-Ginny's form. Puppet-Ginny still did not awake. Fawkes, as if making up his mind, flapped hurriedly to Harry where his tears, still pearly white along his eyes, dropped onto the wound made by the Basilisk fang. Shadow Ginny stared in wonder as the wound healed. Fawkes flapped quickly back to Puppet-Ginny's side and picked up the black diary in his golden claws. He hooted softly in Puppet-Ginny's ear as he passed; it was a reassuring sound, and the red glow about her started to sink into her skin. Then the diary was in Harry's hands and Harry was stabbing the diary with a basilisk tooth; ink pooled out from the diary like blood. The diary was destroyed.

But that was not the only place the diary's ink was, shadow Ginny realised. It was in her too! She walked over to Puppet-Ginny who was now beginning to stir. She stooped down and looked at the silly girl on the ground. The words...they had come from her...Tom had formed from the words _in_ her! They were etched into her body, her mind...into her heart...

. . .

"So the Love Cavern tested you?" asked Dumbledore.

"I don't know if 'tested' is the right word to use, but either way it didn't burn me like it did Rookwood."

"Hmm. And you saw your guardian...I am grateful you lived long enough to do so. I only saw my guardian at the end of the Grindelwald War."

"What..." Severus was slightly unsure of his question, but he asked it in any case, "What does your guardian look like?"

"Ah, just like the Mirror of Erised shows us differently, so do our guardians appear differently to us," the silver Dumbledore nodded his head. "Very little is known about guardians, other than they will show themselves to us when they want to, or when called upon in dire need. Sometimes they take the form of a loved one, but more often than not they hold something, a characteristic or feature, from all who we love."

"My guardian was...beautiful," whispered Severus.

"Is, was and always shall be," corrected Dumbledore. "Guardians have no prospect of time and they flit between this world and what lies beyond with no issues. Although good luck to you if you ask a guardian what 'beyond' actually is!" Dumbledore laughed, as if recalling a fond memory although his eyes held a dull glow.

"Why did your guardian show itself to you?" asked Severus, still unsure as to whether Dumbledore would answer him or not, but knowing that unless he asked he would not get any answers.

"I was nearing the end, as it so happens. Everyone thought I was already gone. Grindelwald stood over me, my long lost friend...and he smiled and held his hand out to me and I took it. It was only later that I was told the truth of the event: Grindelwald was standing over me, triumphant according to the witnesses, pointing his wand down at me, when I – apparently unconsciously – raised my arm and took hold of his wand and performed a reverse-sided spell that made him crumple to the ground. The wand was left in both our hands. From what I heard, it looked as if we were holding hands in our joint death. Of course, neither of us died. Neither of us has truly lived since then though."

"So your guardian was in the form of Grindelwald?" asked a stunned Severus.

"Not quite. After I had performed this unknown magic, I did meet a man who looked very much like Gellert, but there were differences in his appearance that I had not noticed before. He and I walked for a while in the most magnificent place while we talked. He answered many questions of which I already knew the answers, but had always been too scared to admit to myself. It was then that I decided I would not leave Hogwarts."

Dumbledore smiled. Snape decided he would not pry anymore; he had not wanted to share his whole conversation with his guardian with Dumbledore either, although he had had to.

"And I think I have the blessing of the Dead too," Snape said quietly as he stared at his interlocked fingers.

"That is a most wonderful thing to have! We should not pity the dead, Severus. They are found in their ways."

"I agree with you...I do not pity them. I pity the living for having to go through life as it is now...I pity all those who have had to endure war and hardships."

"More so, Severus, I think we should pity those who live without love. You saw in that Cavern the true power of love. Its burning desire and molten compassion. You felt love's tears upon your face, and the heat of its passion. If that is pure love, then imagine the power of love when it is directed!"

"It is no wonder the Dark Lord burned during his first meeting with the boy. Lily's love was unbelievable. She loved life! All parts of it!"

"Yes," smiled Dumbledore, "I remember once seeing Lily running through the castle, and imagining a red glow around her."

"You weren't imagining it, old man. That glow was real. I saw it a few times, although others never noticed it."

Dumbledore's twinkle returned suddenly to his eye.

"You have an affinity for love, Severus. The actions of the Love Cavern prove this to me. You have always had the ability to identify magic, second only, may I be bold enough to say, only to me –"

" – And surely to the Dark Lord?"

"Oh no, Severus. Not to the Dark Lord. He ignores certain magical powers, and in so doing he ignores his potential. It is like focussing on one muscle in the body. You can work it and form it into the perfect muscle. But when the time comes to act, the body is not proportioned and as such cannot perform. Young Tom has done little to work his heart, and when the time comes, his whole body will fail him. No one can do anything without a heart."

"Well the Dark Lord has certainly done much, even without a heart."

"That damage, although severe and saddening, can be fixed. Forgiven."

"Forgiven?" spat Snape, appalled at Dumbledore's words. "I will never forgive that beast for all he has done!"

"Ah, now, Severus. He has done much, but what really has he accomplished that cannot be undone?"

"Murder!" shrieked Severus.

Dumbledore smiled sadly at Snape, with a look that implied he knew more than the other man.

"Do not close your heart, Severus. It is your heart that has saved you from a miserable life."

"It is my heart that made my life miserable in the first place!" snapped Snape, breathing deeply. Ginny moaned and he looked at her twisting form on the black bed. Somehow he regained his composure. "I think that my, er, heart has gotten larger," he said while still looking at Ginny. "I can feel something in me that has grown after my encounter with the Love Cavern. It isn't a new power, merely _more_ of what I had before. Is it possible that the Love Cavern gave me some of its power?"

Dumbledore contemplated in silence for a moment. They both stared at the twisting form of Ginny Weasley on the bed before them. She had been moaning in her Dreamful Sleep for quite some time now. At one point she had screamed and Snape had dug his nails into the arms of the chair to keep from jumping to his feet in the need to _do_ something to help Ginny.

"I think..." began Dumbledore, "that it is very possible. The Love Cavern sounds like a thinking being, as is everything in the Department of Mysteries. If it let you release it from its cage, it might have been grateful and seen to a reward. I do not know what sort of difference this will make to you though, Severus. These things are not tested, and most definitely do not happen often." Severus merely nodded his head in understanding. He would have to wait and see for himself what changes had come about him. It was quite possible that there were none.

"Not to undermine the situation you find yourself in, but there are more pressing matters to attend to. The map that you drew for Tom. What do you think he is planning on doing with it?"

Snape sighed and rubbed his temples.

"I've been trying to think of possibilities. He never mentioned why he needed it. I just know that once it is set on that paper, the Department won't be able to change like it normally does. It will be a trapped animal. I do not know the repercussions this could have on the room, but I just know that this forced subservience is cruel. I plan on destroying the map, but it will be difficult. When I handed the map over to the Dark Lord...I have never seen his eyes so energetic before. I could almost taste his need for Harry! I think the whole time I was away he was only thinking of the boy! I can only imagine his hunger for Harry Potter's flesh in a comparison, if not more so, to a Dragon starved of flight."

"We are agreed then that you need to get hold of that map and destroy it as soon as the proper moment arrives. Patience, Severus," Dumbledore held up a silver hand as he saw the snarl form on the Potion's Master's face. "I believe that the right time will come for everything..." Dumbledore's silver eyes held a sad gleam in them. "Maybe even the right time for certain things has passed..."

"What are you referring to, Old Man?" asked Snape, not liking the serious tone at all.

"I am, of course, referring to Harry."

"Ah yes, the Golden Boy. What would you like conveyed to him now?"

"Not now. Sometime soon though. I think I have made a dire mistake."

"You?" smirked Snape, "Make a mistake? The Wizarding World is surely doomed if the greatest sorcerer of all time cannot get things right!"

The smile flitted back onto Dumbledore's face.

"You are right, Severus. Mistakes are meant to be made to be learnt from. Speaking of which, what have you learnt from Ginny's mistakes that she made years ago?"

Snape sighed.

"I wish I could tell you more. But she hardly remembers anything that happened to her in the Chamber of Secrets. She once said to me that she knows everything, but can't seem to recall anything."

The two figures looked to Ginny who had now turned over so much that the black sheet was twisted up around her. She looked as if she were crying in her sleep.

Dumbledore sighed.

"I am sorry to leave you with this mess, Severus. I, er," and Snape was surprised to hear Dumbledore stutter for words – that did _not_ happen often, "may have miscalculated the depths of her harm. I was too concerned for Harry Potter. I sent her directly to the Hospital Wing, to the very place where the victims of her plight were being brought back to life. I can only imagine what torture that must have been for her: to see the very people that she had hurt."

"Although it could also have been relief," said Snape after a moment's hesitation. "They were being given the Mandrake Juice at that time, if I am not mistaken. She would have been able to see all her actions rectified."

"I don't think she would have felt relief. More like guilt."

"We will never know unless we ask."

"We will never know unless _you_ ask," corrected Dumbledore. "And with that I must be off."

Snape had barely a moment to nod his head in farewell before the silver Dumbledore vanished.

Ginny threw an arm over her head and tears coursed down her face.

. . .

Ginny realised her dream was showing her memories. She realised this despite not being able to realise much else. She was in her dream as if it were happening again. As if the memories were being made fresh in her mind.

She was being lead out of the Principal's office by her mother and father, leaving a blood-soaked twelve-year-old Harry and dripping wet Ronald behind. Her mother was holding onto her tightly. Ginny's eyes were still a shade shallower than their usual deep brown, and her skin was a dead white. The hand her mother held around her seemed to burn with warmth.

"This is all my fault, Ginny. I am so sorry!" her mother sobbed, not bothering to rid the tears from her patchy face.

Ginny hardly even noticed. She was dead inside. There was no way she could get rid of this year. There was no way she could get back this year. There was no way. There just was no way.

They were at the entrance to the Hospital Wing and someone ran right into them as they were opening the door.

"Ginny! Mrs Weasley! Mr Weasley!"

"Hermione..." Ginny's eyes found focus. They stared in disbelief. Hermione was moving! She was back to normal!

"Oh Ginny! It's wonderful to be back! But there's something I have to tell Harry, and Ron! Do you know where they are?"

"They're with Professor Dumbledore, dear," answered Molly Weasley since Ginny was now staring hard at her feet.

"Professor Dumbledore? But, wasn't he gone? When did he come back?"

"Just now dear. I'm sure you can talk to Harry as soon as he is finished with his meeting. I hear that there will be a feast tonight to celebrate."

"Celebrate Dumbledore's return?"

"I think that may play a role, but more so to celebrate..." Molly's eyes grew watery again and she burst into sobs.

"What's all this about?" said a stern voice, and Madame Pomfrey stuck her head through the door. She took one look at Ginny's pale exterior, as well as Hermione out of bed, and in moments had them all (including Mr and Mrs Weasley) in beds.

Ginny drew the curtains around herself, and tears welled up. She tried not to let them spill, but they poured down her cheeks despite herself. She was so _stupid_! She was a _stupid, silly, little girl_! She had caused so much pain and suffering. She had been so selfish...she had been...lonely.

And afraid.

And she had had no one to help her be brave. She didn't even know what being brave was!

The curtain slipped open and Ron showed his head.

"Can I, er...Can I talk to you?" he asked awkwardly.

Ginny, too shocked to say no, merely nodded her head.

"I've explained everything to Hermione," he said as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Oh," said Ginny, not making eye contact. "Ok."

"She doesn't blame you!" said Ron in a high pitched voice.

"Shhh!" Ginny hissed, although his shouting gave her an opportunity to wipe her eyes.

"Oh, right, sorry," Ron brought his voice back down to a whisper. A beat or two of silence later and he said, "No one does."

"Does what?"

"Blames you."

"I didn't know my name was 'no one'..."

It took Ron a moment, but then he smiled sadly, "You shouldn't blame yourself either. No one got hurt. Harry is alright! I'm alright! Only Goldi-Lockharts got any lasting damage, and no one really bothers about him anyway."

Ginny gave a strangled cough that could have been a giggle.

"So he was a fake?" she asked.

"Yeah, the dumb oaf! He tried to get rid of my memory!" Ron was smiling now and Ginny let her laugh out a little more.

"Not much difference that would have made, with a memory like yours!" she laughed some more and Ron joined in.

"Do mine ears deceive me, or is that my favourite sister laughing?" the curtains opened once more and two heads appeared one below the other.

"I'm your _only_ sister!" said Ginny as she smiled at Fred and George.

"Doesn't stop you from being our favourite," said Fred.

"Or our most annoying," added George.

And the two jumped on the bed together, making Ginny bounce and giggle. She hadn't thought she'd be able to laugh ever again, but the twins had always been able to make her smile.

The bed settled and the three brothers stared at Ginny.

"You made us worry, little sister," said George, pulling himself up alongside Ginny and throwing his arm around her.

"And it's not fair that only little Ronnikins could come and save you," added Fred as he punched Ron in the arm.

"Ouch!" exclaimed Ron. "I can see I'm not wanted anymore," he mumbled and let himself out of the curtained bed area. Ginny was left just with her twin brothers who were both looking at her in a very serious way quite unlike them.

"We just want to know," said Fred eventually, "why you did it," ended George.

Ginny sighed. Here came the blame. Here came the guilt. Here came the heartbreak all over again. She didn't know if she could take it.

"I..."

"Don't answer us," said Fred suddenly. "Rather, just tell us why you didn't come to _us_?"

"Yeah..." whispered George. "We heard that you tried to tell Ron and Harry. We understand why you didn't tell Percy. But why didn't you come to us?"

Ginny sighed and said, "I didn't think you'd take me seriously."

Both twins stared at her in shock.

"We can be serious!" exclaimed Fred, which made Ginny smirk.

"Maybe," she said, "but I'm...I'm just...just...a silly little girl," the tears were coming again now. Her throat was clogged. Her eyes were burning. But worse than everything else, her heart was aching.

It beat and she felt guilt. It beat and she felt blame. It beat and she felt disappointment. It beat and she felt four arms wrap themselves around her.

"I thought we just told you that you're our favourite sister?" asked one of the twins. "And that includes you being a silly little girl."

The tears coursed down her cheeks, and a warmth flooded through her from the twins. She could feel their love. And she could feel their love fixing her from the inside. It felt like phoenix tears dropping on her insides, and slowly melting everything back to shape with warmth and love.

Yes, her heart was aching. But it was no longer breaking.

* * *

**(A/N: _This chapter took me a long time to write. It was one of the ideas that gave rise to this fanfic. Just to let you all know, I try and put up two chapters a month, but this next month might be a little bit lacking because I have exams coming up from 1 November to the 25th. I will still try and get a chapter up though, so don't despair! I'm still not too sure if I got Tom's manipulation of Ginny right, because she tried to get rid of the diary, but Tom ended up taking over her body again in any case, so he must have pulled some crazy trick to get her to trust him again. The only thing I could think of is that he got her to love him. He sees love as a way to use people, and that is why he considers it a weakness. Sorry if the Dream State is a little difficult to follow - especially when there is Ginny watching herself in the Chamber. Remember that the dream state all comes from Ginny's subconscious. So, as you can see, she has remembered what happened to her in the Chamber. Next to come: Snape gets angry :D Let me know what you think! Also, if you leave an anonamous review, it would be nice to give me a way to reply to you all! I try and reply to all my reviews! Wonderwhiterabbit hopping off!)_**


	26. Chapter 26  Awakening

**(A/N: _First and foremost, a heartfelt apology for this late update. I have received a few people asking if I have abandoned this story, and no I have not, merely it has been an unbearably difficult month and a half and as such my writing has suffered. I do hope you will all forgive me. But here is the next chapter and I hope you all enjoy it! I love reviews! They really do get me writing and get me out of my funk. Thank you to all those who sent messages and reviews! As for Snape getting angry...well, just wait. WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off)_**

* * *

**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 26: Awakening

Ginny blinked her eyes. A dull glow was lighting up the room and she could hear deep breathing to her left. She rolled over and stared at the sleeping form of Professor Snape, his head nodding on his chest as he slept in his armchair. Ginny was shocked for merely two seconds before she could react. With a beating heart, she pulled the sheet from her sweating body and carefully climbed out of the bed. She had almost made it passed Snape when he stirred. She stopped immediately, her body frozen to the spot in fear, and waited. She didn't even turn to see if he was awake. She knew he was. She could feel it. She knew now what had happened that one night when she had kissed the passed out Severus Snape; in his sleep, his defences were so high up that even her weird powers were not enough to draw them out. He was dead to the world – completely encased by his own mind. But at the same time, aware of everything. It was an amazing state that Ginny thought she would never be able to perfect as well as Severus Snape the Spy.

"Eyrie," said Snape, his voice husky from sleep, but clear and sure.

There was a _pop_, and Eyrie arrived.

"First time Master lets Eyrie see private room!" squealed Eyrie, her large eyes roaming the room, probably seeing more than one chore awaiting her eager hands.

"Yes, yes, it's all very exciting. But before you begin your intolerable cleaning exhibition of my entire quarters, could you please bring me and Miss Weasley breakfast?"

"Yes Potions Master!" and Eyrie popped back out of existence.

Ginny finally turned and faced her Potions Professor with a gulp.

"You let her into your Secret Room?" she asked pointlessly.

"Not much of a secret any more, now is it?" sneered Snape.

"I won't tell anyone about it! I swear I won't!"

"I am not worried about you telling anyone."

Ginny's eyes opened in fear.

"You're not going to...to obliviate me are you?" she asked hurriedly.

He merely arched an eyebrow in amusement and said, "Take a seat please, Miss Weasley.

Ginny carefully lowered herself into the twin armchair opposite Snape.

"You are up early. I expected you to sleep for longer."

"I'm sorry I slept here at all," mumbled Ginny.

"I'm sure you are. I hope you have realised the boundaries you have stepped over and the trust you have lost."

Ginny's eyes opened.

"I've...I've lost your trust?"

"You tell me? I leave Hogwarts for merely a weekend – and only a portion of that weekend at that – and already you are on the brink of losing your house every single gem it has had the unfortunate privilege of earning this year."

"Please don't do that!" Ginny launched forwards and found herself on her knees before her potions master. He stared at her on the ground, pleading with him and a look of utter revulsion graced his features for barely a second before his face went blank once more.

"Get up you silly girl," he growled and simultaneously stood while he hoisted her up with a clawed hand.

Ginny didn't know if he meant to do it so roughly, but her whole body was shaking from the contact. Snape may have hidden his anger from his face, but it still showed through his actions.

"I'm sorry," she blurted. "I'll never come here again! I'll drop potions even!"

"The more you speak the worse it gets," sighed Snape. "Just sit down," he pushed her back into the armchair once more, "and keep quiet."

She leant back into the chair and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Her shoulder still beat from where Snape had gripped her and she gingerly raised a hand to rub it.

"That hurt," she stated.

Snape gave a frustrated sigh and fell into his chair with a wave of black cloak.

"I give you one instruction and you cannot even follow that."

"You gave me two instructions – sit down and keep quiet. I chose to follow the first."

"You were forced to follow the first. I could easily enable the same for the second," and he drew out his wand from his sleeve, a menacing gleam in his eyes.

The effect was a little lessened though when a small _pop_ announced Eyrie with breakfast.

"Here Master! Favourite breakfast for both Master and Missy!"

"Thank you Eyrie. Place it on the table please and be off with you. You can clean here when I am gone, but _do not touch_ _anything_ – just clean."

"Yes Master, Sir!" said Eyrie, her spirits not in the least dashed as she placed a tray on the table between the twin chairs and _popped_ away.

Snape looked tiredly down at the tray.

"Your favourite breakfast is waffles? How unoriginal for a teenager," he asked of Miss Weasley who was glowering in his direction.

"And your favourite breakfast is toast. How boring for a –"

" – If you value your life you will not complete that sentence!" interrupted Snape.

"Yes Sir," mumbled Ginny.

"And it's French toast. With syrup."

"I thought the syrup was for me..."

The both looked to the glass bowl and spoon holding the golden liquid. Simultaneously they reached for it. Simultaneously they stopped. Snape looked to Ginny and Ginny looked to Snape. A smile was creeping its way along Ginny's face, whereas Snape had changed his face to its most malicious sneer.

"You first, Sir," said Ginny and leaned back to admit defeat.

Growling slightly, Snape took the bowl and applied his syrup in a very precise motion. Ginny smirked.

"Something funny, Miss Weasley?" snapped Snape.

"No," Ginny hurriedly said. "Only, could I have the syrup now please Sir?"

Snape handed over the syrup bowl and Ginny turned it upside down, completely soaking her waffle in syrup.

"Have a bit of waffle with your syrup?" Snape said under his breath.

"I will, thank you," smiled Ginny as she put the now empty syrup bowl back down on the table.

Snape took his plate and placed it on his lap, whereas Ginny sat down on the ground at the coffee table and began to eat her waffle with her hands.

"You will need a bucket of cleansing charms when you are done with that," pointed out Snape as they were eating.

"The point of food is to enjoy it," stated Ginny, "and I was raised with a hoard of hungry mammals as role models so you can't expect me to eat like the queen."

"Like a human being would be a good improvement."

Ginny gave an exasperated sigh but didn't say anything. She merely finished her waffle.

"Thank you for breakfast, Sir," she said. "May I go now?"

"No," stated Snape simply.

Keeping down her anger, Ginny asked, "Then when can I go, Sir?"

"When I say you can go."

"Sir, it's a Sunday morning!"

"Yes, and students will right now be getting out of bed and, in hoards, be making their way to the Great Hall. The chances of you being seen leaving my quarters will be doubled if not tripled, and I do not know about your reputation, but I would like mine to stay reasonably clean."

"What do you mean 'I do not know about your reputation'? What do you think my reputation is? If you're implying that I have a bad reputation with men, then you should know better than to bring up this subject!"

"I was not implying that you have a bad reputation with men. I was implying that you have a bad reputation with_ boys_."

Ginny jumped to her feet and pointed her finger at Snape accusingly.

"You're one of those _boys_ I have a reputation with then!" she snapped. "Remember? I kissed you!"

There was a beat of silence. Then another.

"I would prefer it," said Snape smoothly, "if you did not point at me with dirty hands. I assume you know where the bathroom is. Go and shower. I will have Eyrie bring fresh clothes for you."

Ginny fumed and stomped her way to the bathroom. Snape just heard her mumble, "less emotions than a statue that one!" before she passed through the green beads of the bathroom entrance.

Snape relaxed and called Eyrie.

"Yes, Sir?" asked Eyrie expectantly.

"Will you bring up fresh clothes for Miss Weasley from her trunk in the Gryffindor tower?"

"Yes, Sir!" squeaked Eyrie and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Eyrie," said Snape before Eyrie could pop away, "bring more syrup."

. . .

Ginny was hesitant at first. She put the water on and then carefully stripped her body of her sweat-stained garments. She wasn't too sure where to put them, but then shrugged and left them in a heap on the floor. Then she daintily stepped her way into the shower, the nozzles spraying water from two sides. She could almost relax now, with the water pounding on her bare skin, almost so hot that it scalded her. She could almost forget where she was. Who she was. All that had happened to her. Almost.

But not quite. Her tense muscles did not relax completely. Her mind could not switch off completely. Her heart could not stop its galloping beats completely. Almost, but not completely.

That was like everything, she reflected. She was good at certain things, but not completely. She was getting to know Harry, but not completely. She was starting to trust Severus Snape...but not completely. And that was why she was still tense as she stood under the pelting water, the thing that usually made everything wash away.

But there were more important things to think about right now. Yes, Severus Snape was a part of those things, but not the main part. The main part was in her head. She had always known, but never remembered. It had been in her this whole time, and now an unlikely event had brought it forth. _Memories_. The word was wrong for Ginny. _Truth.._. Yes, that was more like it. She had discovered the truth. The secret had been revealed to her. She remembered. She remembered! Oh Gods, she remembered!

The night's dream – no, nightmare – now came thumping through her brain. She forced herself to remember it, relive it, again. And then again. Soon she was saying words and sentences that she had never remembered but always known; _It was you! It was always you! _And then her resolve took over. She remembered his eyes. She would not forget them. _It's not too late for me! I will come back from you! I will heal! I will get better! You can't keep control of me forever!_

She thought she heard a ghost of a laugh echoing through the water pipes.

Was she wrong?

_Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever_

No, he had been wrong. It was not her skeleton lost to her, it was her heart.

She gripped at her skin, feeling her beating heart underneath her clutching hand and a sob pushed its way through her throat. She could feel her heart beat harder as more sobs forced themselves onto her. She didn't cry. She didn't cry. She didn't cry! But then why was she crying now? Those weren't tears; they were just the water from the shower. No, those were definitely tears.

Her knees gave way. She landed hard on the shower floor, but the pain was foreign to her. She was nothing any more. She had been a hollow shell and she had been left a hollow shell. She was nothing. Nothing.

Wrong again: she was not nothing. She had been filled with something. With words. And thoughts. And lies. And they were all his.

_Damn you Tom Riddle. And your secrets. I want nothing to do with them!_

She gripped her head in her hands and pushed at her temples, willing the force to push out that which was not hers. That which was his. That which was wrong. But all she succeeded in doing was make her head throb.

"Aaargh!" she screamed out, in frustration and anger, and in utter humiliation. She was useless. She knew that now.

_A silly little girl_, something in her said.

_But our silly little girl_, something else said.

_Silly little girl silly little girl silly little girl silly little girl_

The words rung in her head over and over, voices drifting over others. That was her mother saying it. That was Percy. That was Fred and George in their twin-speak way. That was Tom Riddle. That was Ron. That was Snape. That was her. She had said it. Admitted it. And then grown from it.

She squeezed her eyes tight and the voices drifted off.

"Silly little girl," she said aloud. "Silly little girl," she repeated. Yes, she was nothing more than a silly little girl. And she didn't like that one bit. So the only thing she could do was change it. She could change it, that she knew. And she needed the man waiting for her outside. She knew the secret now. Why she fell; love. And what was Severus Snape but a man lacking love? If he could live like that, then surely she could too! He could teach her, she knew. She could grow out of this _thing_ she had for Harry. This thing that had been planted in her head by Tom Riddle. Lies. All of it. Including what she felt for Harry. And Tom. That was the only way out now. And Severus Snape could help her.

She stood, washed herself down quickly, and then switched the water off. She stayed there for a few seconds, listening to the water dripping off her body in soft _pluk-pluk-pluk_ sounds. It would all wash away soon enough. All of it. Severus Snape would make sure of that.

With eyes wide open, she stepped out of the shower.

. . .

Snape had a book open on his lap as he waited for the girl to finish washing off. He needed to know what she had dreamt of, but there was only one way for him to find out. No, there was another. He could always _ask_ her. As if that would help. She had stormed off to the bathroom in a huff and if he knew Ginny Weasley, her anger would only have doubled. To be honest, the extra syrup that Eyrie had brought him had done little to sweeten his own mood.

But when Ginny Weasley stepped out of the bathroom with nothing but a white towel around her, her anger was gone. All that was left was a small frown line of determination creasing her brow.

"You seem to have forgotten something, Miss Weasley," Snape pointed out, averting his eyes. He reached for his wand; he would not have another shock like the first time she had boldly stepped up to him and kissed him. He would stop any of that nonsense before it happened.

"I think it's Eyrie who forgot, Sir. There were no clothes for me to wear."

Snape scowled. Typical elf! She had probably forgotten all about Miss Weasley's clothes in her excitement of the opportunity to clean his room.

"You could have scourgified your previous clothes," he stated.

"I could have," agreed Ginny, but she took a step forward.

Snape hurriedly stood up.

"Miss Weasley, not this again," he said in his harshest teacher tone.

She pouted.

"What do you think I'm going to do, precisely, Professor Snape?" she asked of him.

"Honestly, I have no idea. But whatever it is, I know I will not enjoy it. _Accio robe_!" his cupboard door flew open and a thick black robe made its way quickly to his hands. "Here," he thrust the robe forwards and averted his eyes. He heard her bare feet softly pad towards him and felt the weight of the robe lift from his outstretched hand. He heard the towel drop and had to stare hard at the wall. He felt a bead of sweat make its way down his back. Damn this bloody woman for making life so difficult! But his face was stone, cold as ever.

"How do you do it, Sir?" asked Ginny.

"Not look at you? Very easily, trust me Miss Weasley."

She scoffed, whether in disbelief or in disgust he could not tell.

"Well you can look now. I'm all covered up. Nothing nasty for your eyes to see. Except for the mirror but I don't want seven years of bad luck."

"Superstitious nonsense," said Snape as he turned, not missing the jibe but ignoring it.

"Breaking a mirror _is_ seven years of bad luck!" insisted Ginny Weasley. She was sitting back in the twin armchair, her whole body engulfed by his fluffy robe. She had to roll up the sleeves for her hands to poke out the ends. She looked a little like a cat curled up in a warm winter blanket...and she had that same look on her face that a cat would have after lapping up warm cream.

"What are you so smug about?" he snapped, not liking the look on her face at all.

"You got angry," she pointed out.

"I'm always angry," he retorted.

"Well then, you got even _more _angry. When I mentioned that I kissed you. You got _really_ angry."

"It's not something you should bring up!" he could feel a flush working its way up his neck. His skin was probably blotchy with rage and embarrassment.

"Why does it make you so angry?" she asked, her tone soft. "You don't care for things like love and lust, right? You don't care. Full-stop. So why does this make you so angry?"

He let a stiff breath leave through his nostrils. Long and slow he let the breath out. He felt calmer as he replied, "The fact that no one would believe me. That Miss Ginny Weasley, pure Gryffindor, Muggle lover, and Potions Master despiser, would kiss the very person who embodies all her hates. A slytherin, pure-blood enthusiast, and...Potions Master. No one would believe me. And that makes me angry. Because, Miss Weasley, believe me when I say I tell no lies. I tell only truth."

"Because then when you lie everyone believes you..." she whispered.

"No!" he snapped. "Even when I tell the truth they do not believe me! I cannot afford to tell lies! There are others who whisper their way into ears, and those little birds would be perfectly happy to let me fall so that they could take my place. I cannot lie. Therefore I do not lie."

"Then tell me the truth! Why does it embarrass you? Is it because you feel something for me? Anything at all?" her shouts were hysterical. Snape didn't know what had come over her. It had to be something she had dreamed of last night. She must have remembered something. Merlin! He and Dumbledore had been talking about it while she was sleeping! The Chamber of Secrets. Had she remembered?

"Answer me!" she stood, puffing in her anger, her eyes slits of suspicion.

"I feel nothing for you but that of a teacher to a student," he said, his face cold and emotionless. But his head was yelling at him _liar liar liar liar liar_! To calm his mind, he added, "That includes the due care and consideration a teacher shows to his or her students, the respect they have earned, and the trust that they are worthy of."

"No more than that?" she did not sound disappointed. "After all that I've done to you. With you...You feel nothing more for me than a student is due?"

"Precisely," he whispered. Why was she smiling so? Why was she happy to hear this?

_Because she never liked you, you fool_, a voice, small and cold said to him. _She was only ever after what you could do for her. How you could help her._ The voice grew in volume and clarity. _She never cared, you idiot! When you left her on those steps, telling her to wait for you to return from your mission, did you honestly expect her to wait for you? You should have taken the empty words instead – the ones you stopped her from saying. They would have held more meaning to them._

"Teach me!" she announced suddenly. "Teach me to be cold! Like you! Unfeeling. Unloving. I want to know. Teach me!"

He could not help it, the rage had built itself to a tumult in his mind, and at her words it spilled over. He yelled and upturned the table between them. Two strides and he stood over her, pinning her onto the twin chair between his long arms. His head was inches from hers.

"Unfeeling..." he whispered – he did not trust himself to speak in fear of roaring instead. "_Unloving_," he spat. "How easy it is to be that when you are me! How easy it is to not feel when no one feels for you, how easy it is to not _love_ when no one loves you! There is your answer, Miss Weasley! Plain and clear. Let everyone hate you! Let everyone who cares disappear! And your problem is solved!"

Ginny Weasley was shaking beneath him, her eyes wide in surprise.

"I'm – I'm" but whatever she was, she could not get out. She bit her lip hard. He could see that she had done that before, many a time, because there was a dark pink line across the lighter pink of her lips where she had drawn blood before. She saw him looking at her lips and her shaking grew stronger. He scoffed.

"Don't fear for yourself Miss Weasley," he traced a warm thumb over her lip, pulling it out of her teeth's embrace. "I'm the last person who would hurt you."

He stood, looking over her with his black eyes.

"I'm wrong," she said eventually, looking away from him. "I thought you could help me, but you obviously can't."

"Why do you want to be unfeeling? Unloving?" he asked of her.

She could not answer. Her previous argument seemed so frail now. So stupid.

"Wake up, Miss Weasley. You are feeling. You are loving. Do not turn into something you are not. You want to run away again? Feel free. Go run back to the woods and get yourself more lost than you are now. By ignoring everything else, you will only hurt yourself more. I once told you not to turn into me. I say it again now: do not turn into what I am. And if you think that I will help you do the very thing I ask you not to...then you obviously are not as bright as I had suspected."

"I thought you said you never lied..." she whispered. "You never thought I was bright. You only used me because I'm an experiment to you. Well, you don't have to go searching any further for your answers. I remembered it. I remembered all of it. I remembered the Chamber of Secrets. Just ask, and I'll tell you everything. How Riddle wrote his lies into me. How my heart is as black as ink. How his words still taint my mind. I know now. I know it all."

There was a beat of silence while Snape stared into her eyes, almost bore into them with his intensity.

"No," he said slowly. "You don't know it all. You remember only the black. But there was something else...and when you wake up from this silly little self-pity-party, we will try and find out what."

"I'm awake!" she said angrily. "My eyes are wide open. I can see everything!"

"Really?" asked Snape, and he knew that the tone of his voice made her hesitate, made her wonder.

"I can see... some things..." she admitted.

"At least you can admit that much," he sighed in frustration, his hand rubbing at his temples.

"I can see I was wrong about you..." she stood from the chair. She was inches from his body. She saw him grow still, his jaw clenching. "You do feel." And she raised herself on tiptoes and gave him a soft kiss, her lips barely touching his. "Sorry."

"For which part?" he asked stiffly.

"This part," and she kissed him again. His lips were drawn thin and hard. She could feel his jaw clenching as his teeth bit down on each other. But she could also hear the intake of breath. Feel the pulse run under his skin. See the flush drift up his neck. Severus Snape was immune to many things, but this...this he was not...she would have her way...

His hand rose, to push her away. But as before, that unnameable power of hers was over him. Inside him something reacted. He felt a burning rise up through his stomach. A warmth that spread towards his chest. And down his arms to tingle in his hands. His hand touched her arm and the warmth sparked. He felt Ginny's surprise, as vivid as his own. His eyes wide open, he saw that he was giving off a red glow, as was Ginny. And the glow was warm and comforting, but too much. The power was much too much! He pulled away from her, stepping back a few steps for surety, his hand tingling where it had touched her, his mouth red from the kiss. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, staring, utterly unbelieving, at Ginny Weasley before him. The glow had stopped.

She was the first to speak.

"That...that's never happened before..." she said.

"No," he agreed.

"Do you think it...would it happen again?" she asked hesitantly, but he could see the eager gleam in her eyes.

"It might happen again. But we won't let it. That was no ordinary power..."

"We won't?" she was actually disappointed, he could see the fall in her eyes. "What power was it?"

What power indeed. Severus had an idea...but Dumbledore had said that the Love Cavern would have very little effect on him. Then again, Dumbledore had been wrong before. Looks like he was wrong again. Whatever the Love Cavern had done to him, it was now reacting with Miss Weasley – with whatever the Chamber of Secrets had done to her. He had to go down there, he was certain of it now. But he did not know how to open the chamber...Parseltongue was not something written down for normal people to learn. His eyes rested on Ginny Weasley. She said she remembered. Did she remember how to get into the chamber?

"You have that look in your eyes again," she stated, drawing him from his thoughts.

"What look?" he snapped.

"That 'I have a brilliant mastermind plan' look that you always get when you think you're being smarter than everyone else," she spat angrily. Why was she angry? Snape honestly could not keep up with her mood swings.

"I have an _idea_, if that's what you're referring to," he drawled.

"And I have homework to do," she snapped. "So if you have anything else you'd like of me, hurry it up. I want to go."

"As if I'm the one who keeps on kissing you!" he snapped back.

"As if you would ever make the first move!"

"This is not a game of chess! You are a student! I am a teacher! If anyone were to find out about this little ruse you are running, it could mean the end of my career! Who would believe that _you_ forced yourself onto _me_?" Merlin she could make him angry!

"This isn't a _ruse_, old man!"

"Old man? At least you know what it is you are kissing!"

"That's not what I – Gods what is wrong with you? Can't you see? Whatever it is between us, it's not normal! And not because of our age difference! And all you want to do is ignore it – use it as another experiment!"

"Between us?" he spluttered. "There is _nothing_ between us! We would be having a perfectly normal love-hate relationship that teachers and students have. You hating me and me loving every second hating right back!"

"Well I'm glad we got that sorted!" she was puffing in her anger.

He fell into his chair, utterly tired. First she keeps him up the whole night after taking that stupid dreamful sleep potion, then she ruins his breakfast, and now he couldn't even get rid of her in peace!

"What will you have of me, Miss Weasley?" he said, his voice, for once, lacking its snappish tone. She seemed taken aback by his suddenly tired facade, or maybe it was by the question. Either way, she stumbled forwards, his fluffy robe about her making it difficult for her to walk forwards in the smooth manner that he was accustomed to seeing.

"I just want answers," she said when she stood before him.

"How will you get these answers?" he asked of her.

"Through you," she said unashamedly.

"So you will take them? And what of me?"

"What will you have of me, Professor Snape?" she gave his question back to him.

He smirked.

"I have theories. They need answers too."

"And how will you get these answers?" she asked.

"Through you..." he whispered in that secretive way of his. She had to lean forwards to hear him say it. She was so close. Her hair was wet from her shower. Her skin pale in the dim light of his room. All of it could be a secret...

She stayed there for a beat. For another. Their eyes locked on one another. Neither moved. One more beat. Ginny sighed and moved backwards.

In that instant, there was a _pop_ and Eyrie appeared.

"So so sorry, Miss!" she squeaked. "Clothes for Miss! Forgot, but not too late!" she held out robes to Ginny who took them with thanks. "Will clean as soon as Master is gone!" said Eyrie and then _popped_ out of existence once more.

"I'll just...yeah..." and Ginny walked to the bathroom to get changed.

Snape let out a long breath. What was he thinking? He wasn't...again...

Maybe it wasn't Miss Weasley who had to wake up. Maybe it was him.

* * *

**(A/N:_ There! And I hope the next chapter does not take so long to get up, but I'm sure it won't. I'm on holiday now, and in the middle of South Africa where I have to perch on a stool out in the grass to get signal, but that doesn't stop me from writing so I'm sure the outside life will inspire me (yadayadayada etc), but what inspires me even more is word from you all! I would love to hear your thoughts! WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off)_**


	27. Chapter 27  Challenges

**(A/N: _I am home again! With beautiful internet connection! So here's the next chapter. Things start getting...heated. Really appreciate the reviews and sorry about the late update again. Really nervous about this chapter, but it had to happen! Let me know what you think and read on! Wonderwhiterabbit hopping off)_**

* * *

**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 27: Challenges

Snape stared at the ceiling. He lay on his bed, nighttime silent around him, only his thoughts for company. And his thoughts were the very last things that he wanted right now. Mainly because foremost in his mind was Ginny Weasley. She was most likely in her dorm right now. Sleeping? Or staring up at the ceiling like him? What was on her mind right about now?

Most likely the Chamber of Secrets. What had she remembered about it? She said she would tell him everything, but he was not sure of that promise. The last thing on her mind would be _him_, that he was certain of!

Or he would have been certain of that a week ago. Now, he was not so sure. She had kissed him again. _Twice_! That little...what? Bitch? Slut? No, child. She was a _child_ for Merlin's sake! And the worst part was, while she had stood over him, her face so close to his he could feel her staggered breathing against his own, he had wanted to kiss her back. To take her in his arms and force those stupid lips onto his own. He had never felt that before; it was a longing. A wanting...

Something in his head clicked as he remembered, "_That's not just it though... The whole year, my, er, longing? I think I can call it that. My longing for Potter grew. It got so bad that I had to find a, er, exit for it. I couldn't use magic; it would make things much worse. But then, at the Yule Ball, Neville had asked me to go along with him. And, I, er..." _She had trailed off as her embarrassment had reached its pitch. What had happened to that embarrassment? How had it just disappeared and been replaced by this bold-headed minx that now taunted his every thought. And then the aura had appeared. That hadn't happened often since he had started spending more time with her. After her admission, he had bluntly stated _"You kissed him," _as if it had meant nothing. As if it was merely a line from a text book. But now he saw it was so much more. When Ginny had first kissed a boy, she had gained control of herself by taking control of another. She was dating Michael wasn't she? He should look at him. Give him a bit more of his attention.

Stop. Snape was shocked. He didn't want to give Michael more attention because he wanted to see Ginny's influence on him, he wanted to give Michael more attention so that he could compare them. A comparison of Michael to Severus was too disgusting a thought. He could not sleep like this!

He threw off his covers and sat up, letting his feet fall over the edge of the bed. He bent over for a moment, his elbows resting on his knees as his hands held his face, his fingers trailing through his black greasy hair. What had this stupid woman done to him?

. . .

Ginny carefully looked around the corner, her breath held tight in her throat. Mrs Norris had just trotted past her hiding place, her bright eyes glittering in the moonlight filtering in through the large arched windows.

_Please don't sense me,_ Ginny prayed.

And somehow the animal hadn't. Ginny let loose her held in breath and relaxed against the wall. She didn't know why she was out of bed, walking around the castle alone. She hadn't been able to sleep. Her mind had been plagued the whole day by the memory of her nightmare, and the thought of sleep repelled her in fear of reliving the dream yet again. She didn't want to forget it, not again, but she didn't want to be reminded of it every night either. And so here she was, running from her bed, heading who knew where but trusting her feat to take her there nonetheless.

She looked up to get her bearings. She was in an alcove somewhere on the fifth floor where the ground sloped downwards to meet with the fourth floor without the need for stairs. She normally came this way in case the castle was not feeling generous, and the stairs were all feigning ignorance on where the fifth floor actually was. Now that she looked at it, she was heading towards the Ravenclaw common room...

Michael.

She wouldn't deny it, she needed him right now. If not to push the insistent _Harry_ from her mind, then to push everything else away as well. She had told so many lies to Michael the past few days – especially the lie covering where she had slept last night – it would be only right to make up for it. She trotted off up the sloping ground, heading towards the talking door knocker that was the entrance to the Ravenclaw Tower. She encountered no one else as she slipped through the quiet castle.

_I am a mouse_, she thought, _Silent. Quiet. Up to no good._

Soon she stood outside the commonroom. She did not want to go in, so instead she decided to wait for someone to come out. _Not bloody likely in the dead of night_, she scolded herself.

Yet again she was lucky; someone quietly opened the entrance, clad in a black cloak with a hood.

"Excuse me," Ginny stepped out of the shadows and the clad-figure jumped. "Sorry," apologised Ginny, "I need to talk to – "

"Ginny?"

It was only now that Ginny realised who she was talking to.

"Cho."

There was an awkward silence, but Ginny filled it hastily, "Er, I was looking for Michael. Do you think you could fetch him for me?"

"Yeah, no problem," agreed Cho just as hastily and turned back to the commonroom.

Ginny fidgeted as she waited. She didn't have to guess where Cho was off to – it was a Sunday night. Harry always wanted to see her before the week started afresh. He thought it was a secret, but nearly everyone knew where he disappeared off to. Something in her squirmed in anger. All the more reason to be with Michael tonight.

The commonroom door opened once more, and there stood Cho and Michael, the latter a little dazed by sleep but excited by the prospect of running around the castle at night. The boy needed to get out more.

"Well, I'll see you two around, yeah?" and Cho hurriedly walked down the corridor, her steps echoing much too loudly around them.

"You called?" Michael said to Ginny as soon as the steps had disappeared.

"I did," Ginny breathed and kissed him. She caught him unexpectedly but he took her in his arms and held her clumsily to him. Ginny couldn't help but feel the difference of him to Snape. His lips were still a child's lips, soft and untrained. He was going through that awkward growth faze that fifteen year old boys always experienced, his arms and hands too big for the rest of his body. And he had no control over any of his body, _that_ she could feel.

They pulled apart and she could see he was blushing. She was tight enough against him to know why. He was still a boy, nothing at all like Snape. Nothing at all like Harry even. Right now though, none of that mattered. All that she wanted right now was what Michael was. A distraction.

"Come on!" and she took his hand and pulled him down the corridor, the opposite direction to which Cho had gone, both giggling like the teenagers they were.

Michael grabbed her back to him and kissed her chastely, but she wriggled free and trotted just out of his grasp. He raised an eyebrow. In her mind, she saw Snape doing the same action. He did it all the time, sometimes unconsciously. It always made her smirk. She shook her head angrily; this was not the time to be thinking about Snape!

Michael ran after her and she skipped just out of his reach around a corner. He ran around and she laughed as he ran right past her, leaning against the wall. He turned and rolled his eyes, annoyed at his mistake. He walked back to her and put two hands against the wall, trapping her.

"Gotcha," he said. Their faces were inches from each other. Ginny couldn't help but remember Snape doing the same thing to her. His eyes were black pools, swimming with unknown emotions. Michael's were empty compared to his. And yet Michael leant down and kissed her. Snape would not do that. He would not take the initiative. He would not let himself go for even a moment. She was better off like this. Better off with Michael, who did not sneer at her, who did not think she was a silly little girl, who thought she was the sun and stars of his life. She kissed back. Furiously. Hard. She lost herself in him.

And apparently he lost himself in her too, because a moment later she felt his hand on her bare skin along her stomach. Her tummy fluttered to life.

"Not here," she whispered in his ear, biting his lobe.

"Uhhuh," he agreed with a moan, not ready to stop.

Ginny ducked under his arms and pulled him further down the corridor. She knew an alcove along the way that would work, tapestry guaranteed. Distraction indeed.

She found it and hastily pulled Michael after her, the tapestry falling back into place muffling their giggles. Michael's hands were back on her bare skin. Hers were somewhere intertwined in his hair and along his back. The fluttering in her stomach had turned into something stronger.

_Guilt guilt guilt guilt_, said something at the back of her mind, but she shoved it back along with the ever-present whisper of _Harry_. She didn't care about any of that now. She wanted to be reckless and Michael could help her with that.

She pulled away from him and her shaking hands started unbuttoning his shirt. She looked to his face and couldn't help but laugh at how wide his eyes were in surprise. This was Christmas come early for him, for sure. She had a shoulder bare. She kissed his jaw, down his throat and onto that shoulder. That child's shoulder. And bit it. Michael let loose a moan. Ginny liked it, and bit again. His arms were around her again, pushing her against the wall of the alcove and in turn his body against her. She felt daring. She felt reckless. She felt him trail a hand down her side, over her butt and onto her thigh.

She didn't know why she did it. She just wanted to forget about everything. She just wanted to feel something else for once. So she let his hand pull her leg up and around him. She felt his hand shaking as it drifted up around her clothes and onto her thigh. He was pushed tight against her, his whole body thrumming with the longing that she had inspired in him. And the fluttering in her tummy had grown to something unnameable. And then he pushed up against her, grinding himself into her. This time she was caught by surprise and she gasped. It was so good. It was so bad. It was so wrong. But he did it again and again she moaned. She pulled his head towards hers, and kissed him furiously, spurring him on.

And that was how they were when the tapestry was thrown aside.

. . .

"They are just children, Severus," said Flitwick, in a voice he must have thought was calming.

"Precisely!" he snapped, "And children should not be out of bed, never mind doing what these two were doing!"

"We were just making out!" shouted Ginny, red in the face. It was bad enough they had been caught, but by Snape! What were the bloody chances!

"A woman of your calibre might call that 'just making out' but I can assure you what you were doing was well enough past that, Miss Weasley.," Snape didn't even look at her. She felt the flush turn from embarrassment into anger.

"I agree with Filius," said Minerva McGonagall, glowering at Snape. So far she had kept quiet, instead watching Snape pacing in a billow of robes and listening to him bicker and snap. "They are just children. And it is not as if we have not encountered children doing this before. It is quite common in fact," she raised a hand as she saw Snape get ready to shout again. "We have steps to follow, Severus," she turned to Ginny and Michael. "Twenty-five points will be taken from you both for being out of bed after curfew. A further twenty-five will be taken for the state in which you were found. A further ten from Miss Weasley for the cheek she showed Professor Snape when he caught them. And then two detentions each, separated."

"I quite agree," said Flitwick.

"Well I quite disagree," drawled Snape in a deathly quiet voice. "_Only _twenty five points?"

"Protocol, you know," tittered Filius, joined with McGonagall's nodding head.

Snape knew he was beaten. He turned in a swirl of black, giving a venomous look at Ginny as he stormed out the room.

"You may go back to bed, Mr Corner" said McGonagall stiffly, "Filius, thank you for your time. Miss Weasley, a word."

The other two left, Michael looking forlornly down at his feet and Professor Flitwick walking briskly after him. The door closed behind them with a soft thud and Ginny forced herself to look up.

"Yes, Professor McGonagall?" Ginny enquired respectively.

"Miss Weasley, please sit," she pointed to the hardbacked chair across her desk. Ginny obliged. "I hope you know how lucky you are it was not Professor Umbridge who found you? She would have done more than just deduct points and hand out a few detentions."

"Yes, Professor, I know," Ginny mumbled.

"These are not times to be roaming the night on some teenage-driven frenzy," continued McGonagall. "I know you and your friends are already facing dire consequences if you get caught going to that little meeting you seem to be having."

"Does _everyone_ know about those?" exploded Ginny.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," said McGonagall, "and I sincerely do not want to hear any more about it."

"Yes, Ma'am," Ginny subsided. "So then, Professor, what do you want to talk about?"

"I want to know why this episode has made Professor Snape so angry."

Ginny blinked, not too sure that she had heard right.

"Sorry Professor, but isn't Snape always angry?"

"That's _Professor_ Snape, Miss Weasley, and yes, granted, he is often angry, but in these sort of scenarios, such as the one of you and Mr Corner, he is normally quite calm," explained McGonagall.

"I'm not sure, Professor," Ginny shrugged.

"How have you and Professor Snape been getting along in classes?"

"_Getting along_?" Ginny laughed. It was odd, she thought, how easy it was to lie to the old crone, but to Snape she couldn't get away with anything!

"Yes, alright," hushed McGonagall. "I just had to make sure. Although I can't deny I would like him to go soft just once. When I was younger the number of times he caught _me_ daydreaming..." she trailed and Ginny quickly jumped in, "Yes, well, thanks for the chat Professor, I should...er...be getting to bed then..."

"Yes," McGonagall quickly agreed, "yes you should."

Ginny was half-way out the door before McGonagall called back, "Oh, and Miss Weasley, if I am any in the wrong about my thoughts, know that Professor Snape is a challenge that few have conquered."

"Er, okay?" said Ginny unsurely and slipped out the office.

She ran on light feet up the corridor and turned to take her usual shortcut when she came to a halt. Her way was blocked by billowing black robes, hands crossed over a chest, and a face full of fury.

"Professor Snape," nodded Ginny and she tried to step around him. He sidestepped and blocked her way. Ginny tried to keep her anger down, but she could feel it burning. It was a Monday tomorrow and she really needed to catch a few hours sleep before her hectic schedule the next day. "Please, Sir, may I pass?" she asked as nicely as she could, although her teeth ground out the last words.

"I need an apology," he drawled out slowly.

"And I need sleep, _Sir_," she replied.

"I would have thought you got enough last night," he said acidly.

"Not in the _open_!" she hissed and pushed him into the secret passage. She was surprised that he let her touch him, never mind steer him away.

"You seem to be spending much time with men in closed places," he said instead.

"According to you they are boys, not men," she snapped back. "And do you know what Professor McGonagall just asked me?" she demanded of him.

"Well if you want me to read your mind to find out I can very happily oblige!"

"Like you would da –"

"Oh I would very easily dare, Miss Weasley. I might be able to find out why you were snooping around my private quarters. What you were thinking when you _kissed me again_! And yes, what Professor McGonagall was just talking to you about."

"Well I'll tell you, _Sir_," said Ginny slowly, keeping down that insistent anger. "She was asking why you were so much more angry tonight than normal. She was asking how our _relationship_ was like in the classroom."

"What did you tell her?"

"I told her it was rocky at best."

"Liar."

"Of course I lied to her."

"Now she's going to be hounding me for the next week. _Woman_," He spat the word as if it were a curse.

"So why?" asked Ginny, trying to catch him off-guard.

"Why was I angry?" scoffed Snape. "You tell me, Miss Weasley."

She hadn't actually given it a thought. She had just reckoned she would pull the answers out of him eventually. But now she had a moment and the words came suddenly to her lips, "You were jealous."

She watched as he sighed and massaged his temples in that tired way he did when people got easy questions wrong.

"Worried?" she supplied and he raised an eyebrow in a perfect arch. "Oh I don't know! I definitely _can't_ read minds and I'm horrible at guessing! Just tell me, why don't you?"

"Why don't I? Because I don't want to..." he took a step towards her, "Because I like it when no one can read me..." yet another step, "because I like it when no one gets to me..." one more step and she had to backpedal into the wall, "because I don't like it when people _do _get to me..." he took another step and she was trapped, "because you get to me."

"I get to you," she whispered, her eyes wide as she looked up to him.

"Yes, Miss Weasley," he nodded slowly. She was shaking and she didn't know why. It wasn't as if she hadn't been near him before...as if she hadn't kissed him before...as if...

All her thoughts disappeared as Severus Snape leant down towards her. Her shaking grew, but all he did was whisper softly in her ear, "You definitely get to me..."

And then he was gone in a swirl of black.

Ginny leant against the wall, breathing so deeply the small corridor echoed her. One thing she was sure of though; Professor McGonagall was wrong, Snape was not a challenge, he was a bloody impossibility!

. . .

Snape was quite pleased with himself. So the girl wanted to play with him, huh? Well he could very easily play back. He listened to her just outside the corridor and felt extremely smug with himself and the state he had left her in.

His mood swung a bit low however when he thought of the day he had to face. Mondays...never good days. Especially with Potter. Trying to teach that boy Occlumens was more challenging than teaching a blast-ended-skrewt to fly. But he would try. He had to.

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**(A/N: _tell tell tell tell tell! Tell me your thoughts! Reveiws and PMs welcome! Wonderwhiterabbit hopping off!)_**


	28. Chapter 28  Defiance

**(A/N: _Bad Writer! Bad bad bad! I am so sorry for the VERY long wait for an update. Thank you all for being so patient, and for those who weren't so patient, thank you for nagging me. Sometimes I need to be nagged. This chapter contains MANY direct quotes from the book - ANYTHING and EVERYTHING you recognise is JKs, and not mine. Other than that, read, review and enjoy! WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off...)_**

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**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 28: Defiance

"It will work," he said again, "just give him more time!"

"He does not have time, Severus," replied Dumbledore with a sad shake of his head. The twinkle in his eye had all but disappeared. "No matter how much Occlumency he does – "

" – tries to do, you mean, he's utterly useless – "

"It will not help. Not if my theory is correct."

"Your theory? Am I one of the fortunate ones to hear this theory? Or am I one of the masses not fortunate enough to partake in your thoughts?"

Dumbledore grunted his humour, but the smile never reached his eyes.

"Don't be so sulky, Severus, it does not suite you."

"Neither does joy, so as such I am left in neutrality, am I not?" he crossed his arms over his chest. Not only had Dumbledore woke him up early, but now he would not even say the reason _why_. "We are straying from the point. Why do you want to stop Harry's Occlumency lessons?"

"Are they improving?" asked Dumbledore with a sigh.

"No," Snape would not lie to the headmaster. "But that is just because he _needs more time_!"

"Fine, Severus," sighed Dumbledore again. "You can give Harry more time. Let me know how his lesson goes tonight."

"Will do, Headmaster," Snape gave a curt bow and turned to leave the office before Dumbledore said, "Oh, and Severus. I do suspect I will be in the grounds this afternoon. Do not look for me, I will return swiftly."

"The grounds, Headmaster?" asked Snape – normally if Dumbledore needed items from the grounds he would ask Snape or Hagrid to fetch them.

"Yes, but it is not an ordinary call that I must make, so I do apologise if I am a little bit late."

Confused, Snape merely said, "Of course, Headmaster," before he left the office.

He strolled slowly through the grounds, making his way along the pathway back into a towering archway that wound its way from the Headmaster's Office back towards the castle. The Office was a separate tower to the four that represented the Houses. It had always made Snape feel apprehensive walking towards it, and as if his shoulders were two times heavier walking away from it. Nothing good had ever come of the Office. And yet it was where he always turned when he had questions, theories, requiring answers. Even without Dumbledore's presence he suspected he would still return there if he had need of help.

His feet had led him to the Great Hall where the roof mirrored the cloudy sky outside. He breathed a sigh and strode into the hall stiff backed. He marched to his seat at the head table and promptly buttered toast and added a hefty portion of jam. As he chomped on a corner, he let his eyes wander the hall. It was quite empty, thank Merlin for that. Only a scattering of early birds had made their way down to the hall and the fresh morning settled noises before they reached Severus' tired brain. Dumbledore wanted to _stop _the Occlumence lessons? It didn't make sense! He had fought tooth and nail to get Severus to give them in the first place, and now the fighting positions were in reverse. Harry Potter needed these lessons. He _had_ to learn to block out his mind! If the prophecy was true – the little of the prophecy that he knew at least – then Potter had to fight the Dark Lord, and if he had to fight he had to have the proper knowledge to fight! And therein lay the issue; Potter could easily get that knowledge – he was surrounded by teachers with far greater skills to offer than he could master in a lifetime – but without the element of surprise, what use was that?

He threw his toast down on his plate, not hungry at all. Then something happened that broke his appetite down to ash on his tongue: Ginny Weasley walked into the hall. Worse; she was glowing. Again.

She looked up at the table and found his eyes. He wanted to look away, but instead he glowered at her, baring a pointed canine. His hand tingled from the remembered touch they had shared and he balled it up into a fist in response. She wanted to play with him, so she would learn what happened.

He still couldn't believe how he had found her. Every time the memory graced itself at the forefront of his mind, his heart found a different rhythm to beat to. And he got angry. Very angry. And invariably he broke something.

In this case, it was his glass of water that took the brunt of his emotions. It shattered into tiny diamonds, the water spilling over the shards and spreading like fingers along the tablecloth. He didn't even bother looking at what he was doing as he stood from the table in a loud scrape of chair on stone and stalked out of the hall, repairing the glass over his shoulder. His eyes were only for the redhead.

She looked away first. He could not say why, but that made him very happy. Maybe Monday was not going to be so bad...

. . .

Ginny had tears in her eyes as she took her seat at the table. This was not fair! It was lunch time and yet again he had played his little staring contest, and again he had won! She told herself the tears were just because her eyes were dry, but she knew the truth...he was winning. She was just a novice, only learning the steps to the dance they were dancing, while he stepped each step in a flourish of confidence. She had _always_ used others to help her problem! So what, she had slipped up just once and now he was going to punish her forever?

Not the once though... the last time she had had her craving, it had lead her to his secret room. She would have ended up with Michael if _he _hadn't been so...so...so curious! That was the issue with Severus Snape. He was a curiosity. A _mystery_ so profound that she had to figure him out! He had theories for her, so why not she have some for him?

That was a thought. She had never made up a theory before. Where to begin? To have a theory, she must have a way to prove it. Wait, if Snape had a theory for her, how did he plan to prove it? Was all of this part of his experiment? To see if the thing in her would _react_ properly? Or improperly... She didn't know any more. What did she know?

She had hardly touched her lunch before she jumped from the bench and made her way as quickly as she could from the hall. What she needed was a notebook. Didn't her dad always tell her that if you had a puzzle, you needed all the pieces before you could solve it? Of course, with Wizarding Puzzles where the pieces were always walking off the table it was very difficult to _keep_ all the pieces, but Severus Snape was not like that. He had definite pieces and she would put them together to paint the picture. A notebook was a good idea...with quite a few drawbacks however. She needed it to be secret. To be _kept_ secret.

She stumbled to a stop before the Fat Lady and hurriedly said the password.

"A bit of patience would do you some good!" called the Fat Lady as Ginny forced the portrait hole open faster than its hinges allowed for.

And there they were. Her heroes. Her idols. Her twins.

"Fred, George," she said hurriedly, "I have an idea for your Joke Shop. Although it's not so much a joke or prank as it is just, well, _useful_."

"Speak to us, little sister of wisdom!" said the one.

"Oh bringer of good faith and ideas," said the other.

"Oh master of plans and secrets!" they said in unison.

"Secrets are exactly why I've come to you," she grinned as they conferred raised eyebrows.

"Secrets are exactly what we don't like coming from _you_," that was George.

"There some juicy piece of gossip you weren't planning on sharing?" said Fred, feigning indifference.

Ginny sighed and put her hands on her hips. "You two gonna help me or not?" she demanded.

"First tell us why you want this object of mystery."

"To go against a certain hook-nosed greasy git."

The twins' grins could not have been wider.

. . .

A boy tied around his middle to a swing as three others kicked the swing backwards and forwards until the boy threw up. The same black-haired boy stuffed into a large box and taped in. The bespectacled black-haired boy banging on a door that he had been locked out of while snow fell softly on the ground to rest on his bare feet, a boy inside sniggering at him from the warmth of the house. Green eyes looked on in disgust as a fat boy tried to pick him up and get him to step into a fouled toilet, but he struggled against the stronger boy. A man going to his knees, pleading, crying, shrieking!

Snape pulled back in anger, his eyes finding focus as they settled on a different kneeling figure. Harry Potter panted, the latest lesson taking its toll on him. Was it possible that a person could get _worse _at something the more they did it? Certainly Potter had mastered that art at least!

"That last memory," he said, his voice tight with control, "What was it?"

The boy spoke as he got to his feet, not quite able to follow what Snape was saying. The sensation of Legilimens could do that to someone; you could get lost in the very memories your enemy had been prying from your mind.

"I don't know. You mean the one where my cousin tried to make me stand in the toilet?"

Snape had to take a breath and answer in a whisper for fear of raging.

"No," he said softly. "I mean the one with a man kneeling in the middle of a darkened room..." he knew that man. Just as he knew what had happened to that man in that room.

"It's...nothing," the boy was a pitiful liar. Maybe to others he could keep a straight face, talk without pauses, look the person in the eye and not flinch...but Snape was not others. Lily could never lie to him either. For some reason that thought made him angrier.

"How do that man and that room come to be inside your head, Potter?" he spat the name, trying to rid himself of his burning resolve to transfigure Harry Potter into a pincushion and stick him with every pin that he could summon this side of the meridian.

"It – it was – just a dream I had," there was the truth. A dream. The boy was _miles_ away from the Dark Lord and yet there was a link between them. Could it be...the blood? Blood, blood, blood! It always came back to bloody blood!

Both of Snape's masters had told him of the return of the Dark Lord. How it was Harry Potter's blood that had revived him from his half-living state. Wormtail would brag of his part in the performance constantly, from taking his own hand for his master to stealing the blood of his best friend's son. Harry Potter's blood. Could there be a connection between them through the blood that they both shared? It was possible...but highly improbable.

"A dream?" repeated Snape, trying to make certain the boy was completely unconscious. Legilimens worked only when the mind was awake. The sleeping mind, or, rather, the _dreaming_ mind, was a maze of memories and unconscious thoughts. The sleeper gets lost in himself. You had to have skin contact to breach the gap using Legilimens when someone was asleep. That was how he had planned on reaching Miss Weasley if she had gotten lost in her own dreams after taking the Dreamful Sleep potion. Could the Dark Lord have created a different form of Legilimens? Is that why he had insisted on Harry Potter's blood instead of any other enemy that could have sufficed?

Potter had not answered him so he continued.

"You do know why we are here, don't you, Potter? You do know why I am giving up my evenings to this tedious job?" actually the _job_ wasn't tedious at all – some of the lessons with Miss Weasley led to deep discussions of the human psyche and explanations of the imagination. The tedious part was Harry Potter.

"Yes," the insolent boy replied. Why couldn't he put aside his anger? That's what Snape was doing. He was filtering it all away from him after each memory that he spied through the boy's eyes. Did Dumbledore _know_? That was the question he should be asking the headmaster. Did Dumbledore know what his precious Harry Potter had been put through all this time? It made him angrier still to think he had been wrong about Potter all along. Dumbledore had once told him Harry Potter leant more towards Lily's disposition, but he had ignored that comment and continued on his path. And now he had the proof right before him.

The boy had been bullied. Picked on. Assaulted! Every single year until the most unlikely event (according to a muggle at least) had saved him from his fate.

"Remind me why we are here, Potter," he said it more to remind himself than for Potter's sake.

"So I can learn Occlumency," the boy never looked at him.

"Correct, Potter. And dim though you may be – " the boy looked at him then. Snape couldn't believe how easy it was to goad the boy. He couldn't keep his cool. He was as hot-headed as his father. As stubborn as his father! He was his father all over again! " – I would have thought that after over two months of lessons you might have made some progress," he was lying of course. To learn Occlumency you needed more than just two months. You needed two years at the least! Maybe Dumbledore was right; the boy had no time. "How many other dreams about the Dark Lord have you had?"

"Just that one," the boy lied to him again. The flick of an eye, the slight clench of a fist, the shift of his stance. Yes, Harry Potter was a horrible liar. But Potter could not lie because he hated lies. He wanted truth. Of course even if Snape told Potter – in detail – of his father's miserable existence and how he tormented Snape among others, Potter would not believe him. No one ever believed Snape. He _had_ to tell the truth _all_ the time, else one lie slip him up. He had lied to Ginny...no, he would not think about that now! If Potter was going to lie, he had better learn to lie better!

"Perhaps...perhaps you actually enjoy having these visions and dreams, Potter. Maybe they make you feel special – important?"

"No, they don't," Snape saw the boy clench the handle of his wand and his jaw set. Two actions that came from two different people; James would always hold his wand too tightly and Lily...she would try to hold her tongue by closing her mouth so hard...the boy had some of his mother in him...he could not have survived his childhood if he had been solely like his father. But now he was cocky. And he could not afford to be cocky!

"That is just as well, Potter, because you are neither special nor important, and it is not up to you to find out what the Dark Lord is saying to his Death Eaters."  
"No – That's your job, isn't it?" the boy snapped it out before he had time to think. Maybe Snape had pushed him a bit far tonight. His eyes were glimmering green balls of hatred and anger. But the boy was fighting. Even a rat against a wall would bite back, and so had Harry Potter. More than that though; the boy knew Snape's job. He knew what Snape did. Surely now he would put two and two together? Snape _had_ to be cruel to Harry Potter – because he was a spy for Dumbledore and continuously in the Dark Lord's presence! It was the easiest thing to place the pieces side by side and come to that conclusion.

But further than that, the boy had hit the _proper_ mark. Snape was Spy. Teaching, although enjoyable at the best of times and a torture at the worst, had never been his _job_. Snape was Spy. That was his job, as the boy said.

He stared into Potter's eyes, wondering if Potter would ever know the truth. Those green eyes...so like Lily's...

"Yes, Potter. That is my job. Now, if you are ready, we will start again. One – two – three – _Legilimens_!"

He was looking into the green eyes. Hating them. Loving them. Remembering them. But Snape could not let himself waver so he murmured the incantation to reach into Potter's mind.

Dementors, a hundred of them, swooping across the lake. Sirius Black next to Harry, gasping for air as grisly hands lunged for him. Dark holes beneath their hoods gave a sucking noise like a drain pulling at air and water. Snape could not keep his concentration when the same night filtered through his own mind. He had not known about Wormtail back then...that Wormtail had been the real reason for the Potter's downfall. He had gone to that shack to avenge the death of Lily Potter as much as the others had. And then Lupin had taken his old friend's hand and Snape's vision had gone black. He had been petrified by his own students! He had been overcome by rage, there was no doubt. He might not have listened to reason... maybe that was another reason why he hated Sirius Black; the man had proven him wrong. He was not concentrating. He felt a sudden switch. The energy flow's direction wavered. Harry Potter had gone through the link! He had managed to Force the penetration away from his mind! There was a shout of "_Protego_!" and Snape staggered, his wand flying upwards and away from his student, and the Link Switched.

He saw his father shouting at his mother, he was crying in a corner, hiding his beaten side against the wall as blood dripped down amongst his tears. Now he sat alone in his bedroom, older than before, zapping flies from the ceiling – the flies that were trying to get to the stray dog that he had brought home which his father had promptly kicked to death and put in the rafters above his room to rot. There was Pennywhether laughing at him as he tried to mount a bucking broomstick, because she had hidden his transfiguration book with one of the gargoyles high up in the gutters and she wouldn't tell him which gargoyle unless he used _that_ broom.

"ENOUGH!" he broke the Link with as much force as he could. He knew the memory that came after the bucking broomstick memory, and it was better that Harry Potter not see it...not see Snape being tended to by Lily Potter...

"_Reparo_," the boy had broken one of his jars. "Well, Potter... that was certainly an improvement..." he had used too much force to break the Link. He had just been too shocked by the Switch to be able to react to it properly. Did the boy _know_ what he had just done? Most likely. He looked to the Pensieve. He was silly to have used so much of his energy – the memory that he had been sure to come next was safe in the pensieve...he straightened the stone device, the mists inside swirling a happy grey-blue shimmer. Blue of protection. The boy could not see those memories. He was safe. "I don't remember telling you to use a Shield Charm..." actually he hadn't told the boy anything at all along those lines; he had never thought to see the boy actually break through his Link. Then again, the boy had done a Switch, not a Break... "But there is no doubt that it was effective..." the boy should have used an attack not a defence. Snape wasn't complaining, of course, it had saved him some bruises. The boy had not said anything to him yet. No questions. No snide comments. Nothing. He should have asked. Snape could see it in Potter's eyes: fear. And confusion. Apparently Potter could not grasp the idea of a Little Severus Snape. The Snape he had just seen. The _weak_ Snape. _Snivellus_...

He hated Potter more than anything right then. The _boy_ was judging him! He had thought...no, Snape was wrong. Snape had _thought_ the boy might be different from James Potter, after seeing the memories he had seen...But Potter had not had the same tortures as Snape. Potter had a place to hide from his tormentors. Snape never had. They were at home. They were at school. They were even outside of all of that too. The fairness of it was laughable!

"Let's try again, shall we?" he said, letting his anger seep through his words. "On the count of three, then. One – two – " here was _fairness_ for Mr Harry Potter, "_Legilimens_!" he forced his power as hard as he could further into Potter's mind, sending the Link deep, deep, deeper...and then Snape felt something odd. It was as if the Link he had been leading had passed through murky water, slowing it down before allowing it to hurtle through this new area of discovery. It was darker than memory matter, more flowing than imagination and creation. It had structure. It had purpose.

It had Harry Potter hurtling along a black corridor towards a door Snape knew well. The torches flashed orange glows as the boy ran towards the black door. The door opened! Potter was through it, and through the Link Snape felt his joy! He was in the entrance chamber, its blue candles sputtering light onto the many doors available. Snape could feel Potter's sudden insecurity as he looked to each door. Snape had to stop it before Potter could guess the right one! He pushed, he pulled, but the Link was tightly held by the new part of Potter's brain that Snape had accessed. With a wrench of power, Snape yelled! And he was loose.

"POTTER!" two strides and he stood over the boy, panting furiously, eyes glittering. "Explain yourself!"

The boy was too scared and confused not to obey.

"I...dunno what happened," Snape could tell Potter was telling the truth. "I've never seen that before. I mean, I told you, I've dreamed about the door... but it's never opened before..."

And then Snape knew. The Dark Lord had sent him to make a map of the Department of Mysteries so that he could _lead_ Potter to the very Prophecy the Dark Lord feared to fetch himself. And the boy was so curious...it did not matter that the Prophecy was miles away, the boy would succumb to his instincts eventually. Unless he could stop these images from appearing!

"You are not working hard enough!" he had to get angry now – nothing else seemed to work with Potter! Maybe he could force some defiance from the boy! "You are lazy and sloppy, Potter, it is small wonder that the Dark Lord – "

"Can you tell me something, _Sir_?" the boy interrupted, his anger equalling Snape's. "Why do you call Voldemort the Dark Lord? I've only ever heard Death Eaters call him that."

Of all the insolent, unimaginable things to say! He opened his mouth, ready to let loose a torrent of words far outreaching the pitiful vocabulary of the teenager before him, when a woman screamed. He snapped his head upwards, his anger forgotten as other instincts took its place. He sent tendrils of his power through the stonework below his feet, reaching towards the Castle. He sensed a great gathering above them.

"What the – " the stonework could not tell him more. He turned to Potter, "Did you see anything unusual on your way down here, Potter?" Snape was calm again, his face set to cold stone. Potter had the decency to shake his head instead of giving an answer that would have made Snape angry again. Snape swept to the door and out of sight, his wand held in his hand ever at the ready. He knew Potter was too curious not to follow.

At the top of the dungeon stairs, Snape had to push through students to get to the side of the staircase where his eyes fell across the scene. Trelawney was screaming, although without the noise muffled by the dungeon walls Snape could hear the cry beneath it. She looked slightly more mad than normal to Severus, but he had never given her much of his attention after...well, after he had messed up spying on her. That was still a sore spot for him. He reckoned if he had known the full prophecy he never would have told the Dark Lord. He also reckoned if he had known Trelawney's "predictions" better he would have laughed instead. Even though she had sounded completely different to her normal airy-fairy self when he had overheard her and Dumbledore that night so very long ago...

"I refuse to accept it!" her denial was accompanied by a shaking of sobs. Snape turned his head slightly to the side. Next to him, walking slowly down the large stone staircase, alone, was Umbridge, her toad-like mouth much too wide for Snape's liking. His wand hand twitched in dislike, but he steadied his need to blast the woman from her feet. He did not like her...not just because of the insolent way in which she treated all of his fellow staff members, but more so because of the insolent way in which she treated _him_! As if he didn't know how to teach a bunch of half-wit students the basics in potion making! And bringing up that stupid Defence position _in front of those students_! Did she _want_ a riot on her hands? Demeaning teachers first, then removing student's respect (or fear in his case,) second. Third came a full-blown uprising! He only hoped she would get the brunt of it when "mutiny!" was called in the corridors. _Professor_ Umbridge would find her teachers to be as _incapable _as she assumed they were if that were to happen. He licked his lips in anticipation...

" – and lack of any improvement, would make it inevitable that you would be sacked?" Umbridge was saying, which only brought on more hideous howls from Professor Trelawney. Her eyes appeared three times larger than the normal two-time magnification – Snape wondered if her tears were the reason. He leaned against the banister lazily, wondering where Dumbledore had gotten to. He had said he would be in the grounds, but surely he was done with whatever task had bidden him outside the castle? He looked around him at the scene that Umbridge had so artfully created. The entire student congregation was witness to her power and the utter humiliation of a Hogwart's teacher. She had chosen her set well – especially standing on the stairs like that, it added an extra few feet to her height and made her seem more powerful than she really was. From Snape's vantage point, he could see the quivering in her throat every time she spoke, which was probably why her voice was so much higher than normal at the moment. To everyone else she would appear gloating and enjoying, but Snape could see the truth – she was holding herself back. It was like watching a cat wanting to pounce, see the shivering in the taught muscles, but knowing that the crocodile was _somewhere_ under the water waiting...just waiting...could she pull back fast enough if the crocodile launched itself from the water as she concentrated on the buck?

And then there were two bucks.

"Oh really, Professor McGonagall? And your authority for that statement is..." Umbridge had stepped down a few steps now; maybe the predator knew better than to attack when there was protection, and Snape could hear the quaver in her voice that betrayed her surety.

Then Snape felt someone tap into the castle and the doors swung open, revealing a serene Dumbledore, eyes twinkling.

"That would be mine," he said. His eyes found Severus' and he saw the slightest wink – or maybe it was just an offset blink. Snape rolled his eyes and, finally, put his wand away. The old man knew how to make an entrance.

Umbridge was rattling off one of her decrees, but Snape was not concentrating. Instead he scanned the audience, curious as to their responses to this debacle. He could see those dunderheads (such _typical_ girls,) Lavender and Parvati holding each other as they held back sobs. He saw the red-head twins glaring with uncontrolled anger at Umbridge – probably thinking how brilliant it would be if the roof collapsed on top of her, or the stairs collapsed under her (that would get rid of the dungeons as well, two for the price of one...yes, that was the option they'd choose). He saw his Slytherins, some openly showing their enjoyment, others confused and shocked by the display, and some bright sparks showing absolutely nothing, their faces blank masks that no one could read. The Ravenclaws were more concerned about who would end up teaching them most likely, that could be the only reason for their concern – not that Trelawney was much of a teacher. The Hufflepuffs, soft hearted as they were, looked as if half the house wanted to run up to Trelawney and give her a hug – some even looked as if they thought a few hugs would do Umbridge some good to. Although he saw some who thought the hugs would do better if they smothered the toad in the process.

And then Snape looked to the other Gryffindors, and his eyes found Ginny's. She was glowing red..._again_! But this time the red was shimmering hot. No one else appeared to notice it, but the other students were not shuffling closer to her to get a better view. She caught his eye and she stared daggers at him – as if it was _his_ fault! He felt anger stir in his navel, but he repressed it. He didn't look away though, and eventually Miss Weasley could not stand the glare and turned on her tail and left. This time Snape didn't feel as smug as the last time he had won their staring contest.

" – and it is my wish that Professor Trelawney continue to live at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore, his voice barely raised but still carrying easily throughout the cavernous entrance hall. Snape had learnt the art of talking from the best, truly.

"No – no, I'll g-go, Dumbledore!" shrieked Trelawney. Snape shuddered at the disrespect, not even a _professor_, or_ headmaster_. The girl had lost her wits at long last it would seem. It was not as if she had much to lose though...

"No," it was the first time Dumbledore had raised his voice above a pleasant conversational tone, and the effect was immediate. The whispers fled from every mouth, and sobs shuddered to a halt. "It is my wish that you remain, Sybill."

And of course Snape knew why he wanted Sybill Trelawney to _stay_. It was not his _wish_, as Dumbledore so delicately put it – it was his command. If she stepped out of the castle, she would be hunted for the prophecy she had given. Then the Dark Lord need not go through with his plan...

He looked to Harry Potter. The boy was looking Dumbledore in the eye, and although Dumbledore had made eye contact with almost everyone in the vicinity, he had left Harry Potter spare. Snape could see how that riled the boy, but with attention focused on Umbridge and Sybill, there was actually no reason for Dumbledore to look at the boy. That was odd.

McGonagall was taking Sybill Trelawney – now no longer a professor – back to her rooms in her spiral tower, supported by Professor Sprout and followed by Professor Flitwick. Snape watched them up the stairs, his mind ticking, as Dumbledore and Umbridge continued to talk in the background. Then he heard a gasp and turned to see Dumbledore say, "This is Firenze. I think you'll find him suitable."

Umbridge seethed, but for once bit her toad tongue and kept quiet.

"I do believe supper is in order," smiled Dumbledore and made his way past the crowds of students who parted for him like magnets facing the wrong way and then followed after him as they found their path again, all spilling into the Great Hall for supper. The four climbing the stairs were forgotten and the fifth standing in her stupor was ignored. Snape sighed and made his way through the Hall and up onto the dais where the Head Table stood. He sat down next to Dumbledore in McGonagall's seat.

"Well that went well," Snape said as he broke off a piece of bread from the loaf before him. There was a selection of pate and he helped himself to some.

"You think so?" asked Dumbledore, a small crease between his brows that gave away his concern.

"Well other than making yourself more of a target for Umbridge than before, yes, I think it went splendidly."

"I would believe you, Severus," said Dumbledore as he too began dishing up his supper, "except I detect a hint of sarcasm in your voice."

"Only a hint?" asked Snape, disappointed, "And here I was trying so hard to make it obvious!"

Dumbledore chuckled before he asked, "So am I to expect a late night meeting tonight?"

"Not so late if I can help it. I'm more worn out than I look."

"Worn out? I thought _I _was the one who just came from a confrontation."

"Yours was with a toad, mine was with a brat. I suppose we are even then."

"Ah, yes, the boy's lesson," nodded Dumbledore as if he had forgotten. "Any improvements?"

"I'd rather leave it for out meeting."

"Alright, Severus. Ah, I think you'll need to look up now."

Frowning, Snape looked up and his eye immediately caught Ginny Weasley's. His surprise vanished and was replaced by a scowl as he and Miss Weasley commenced their staring contest. He won, but he figured it was more because she was too weary to play. Dumbledore was watching him with that stupid twinkle back in his eye.

"You should not make your game too obvious, Severus," he chided, although there was no real reproach in his voice. "Some people are starting to ask questions."

"She started this game," he said, knowing how childish it sounded even as he said it.

"And who shall end it? Only you can. Look at the poor girl – she's miserable. She does not know how to make amends."

"That is because she cannot make amends."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous."

"But you do know better," Snape said through cold lips.

"Yes, I do. She wounded you and now you feel you must do the same to her. You are not jealous, you are vengeful. And a little immature, but we must all give into our younger sides once in a while," smiled Dumbledore sadly.

"Like making a grand entrance to awe the ignorant?"

"Oh, Severus, they are not ignorant. Merely impressionable."

"And you have certainly impressed, Headmaster," he could not keep the sneer away.

"That is a part of my job!" laughed Dumbledore. "One part brains, the rest," he shrugged, "nothing a good show cannot cure."

"The perfect ingredients for a perfect potion. The same ingredients, I might add, I am using on Miss Weasley."

"This is not a _show_, Severus. It's a humiliation."

"Good! The girl deserves some humility!"

"And are you really the one to give it to her? Has she not suffered enough already?"

Snape turned in his seat to face Dumbledore, his black eyes glittering like black beetles in firelight. "Do you know why she was with the boy?" he asked of the Headmaster.

"By 'the boy' I suppose you mean Mr Michael Corner?"

"Yes, that one. Do you know why?"

"I do believe they are in a relationship and as such, certain...experiences must follow. It is ordinary for such occurrences in a school – especially a school filled to the brim with teenagers and hormones running circles with each other."

"Hormones were not the only things running circles with that girl...she succumbed to _it_. The thing inside her left behind by the diary – "

"Perhaps this conversation is meant more for out meeting later on," interrupted Dumbledore.

Snape could not defy him. The Headmaster was right, of course; too many ears and eyes were in the great hall, not all of them at the Head Table.

"But onto another matter – Firenze will require accommodations. I thought you would enjoy the opportunity to work with Minerva in transfiguring one of the downstairs classrooms for him."

"_Enjoy_?" Snape laughed at the prospect. "It is more likely we will end up in a confrontation of wills."

"Oh now, Severus, is that a way to talk of your competition?" Minerva McGonagall took the seat on the other side of Dumbledore with a sigh. "I would love to take you on after dealing with _that_," she said.

"Now, now Minerva, be nice to your peers," tutted Snape.

"Since when do _you_ have a monopoly on insensitivity?" she snapped.

"Not a monopoly, only a perfection of the art. The point is to not let it get to you."

"Or to let other things get it instead," mumbled McGonagall, as she ate straight from the serving platter.

Snape smiled and put aside his knife and fork.

"Alright, Headmaster, I suppose I'll see you later for that meeting."

He was surprised to see Dumbledore staring at the Gryffindor table. It was only after he scanned it himself that he saw that Potter was absent.

Maybe Snape could not defy the Headmaster, but Potter would do what he wanted.

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**(A/N: _Please let me know your thoughts! I promise the next chapter will be up-and-coming at a MUCH faster rate than this last time. Also - I'm going to finish the story, so no worries, 'kay? WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off)_**


	29. Chapter 29  Assistance

**(A/N: _Is it possible? Yes it is! The next chapter is here! Just want to say one thing: I love Firenze! Alright, read read read! And let me know what you think! Loving the reviews - but let's have some more critical notes shall we? Wonderwhiterabbit hopping off...)_**

* * *

**In the Head of the Snake**

Chapter 29: Assistance

Snape stretched his stiff body. He had slept deeply after his meeting with Dumbledore. He had told Dumbledore about Potter's Switch. And then he had told him in depth of his theory.

Really, he had too many of those now. Too many theories and not enough proof for any of them. And still he felt like Dumbledore wasn't telling him something.

Potter had gone through the first door in the department of mysteries. He had made it into the Entrance Chamber with all its blue lights and dark doors. The Dark Lord had implanted that memory in Potter's head somehow. _And_ when the Dark Lord had felt that Potter was most vulnerable. But _how_?

There was also something else to take away from the debacle; the department must have been Frozen. The very thing Snape did not want to happen, now had. The Department of Mysteries had been Mapped, and as such would not change. It was under the power of the Dark Lord and the only way to fix it would be to destroy the map. The map that he had helped create... Maybe there was another way to fix things? Why always take the difficult route when there was an alternative – albeit an invisible one at the moment, but this was Magic we were talking about; invisible did not mean impossible. Perhaps another meeting with the House Elves might help?

But the last time he had spoken to the Elves, it had been about the Room of Requirement and the power that it encapsulated, and that brought up his impending trip to the Chamber of Secrets, of which he still needed a _Parseltongue_ for.

One problem at a time, he reckoned. And speaking of problems, he had to see Miss Weasley today. He sneered at the roof before throwing the blankets off of himself.

That woman was beyond anything he had had to deal with in his life. Even his past dramas were less than this one. It was amazing what barely three days had done to their relationship. On the Friday she was asking if they were friends. On the Saturday she was sleeping in his room and kissing him. On the Sunday she was half way to having sex with another student. And then on the Monday she was crying because he kept on winning their staring competitions.

And now it was Tuesday. Now it was time for their first Occlumency lesson since the weekend's affairs had transpired. He wasn't sure if he wanted to go or not. Hell, he wasn't sure whether _she_ was going to go or not!

Would she pitch up?

There was only one way for him to find out.

...

Ginny stared hard at the quill, daring herself to pick it up. Daring herself to call off this farce. Daring herself. But not daring to do anything of the sort.

Snape had given her homework for this Occlumency lesson. She had to come up with a mantra that he would then put to the test. The weekend had been so hectic, from watching Snape disappear from Hogwarts' grounds, to finding his secret room, to being caught out with Michael. She hadn't thought about any such mantra. And he had told her to have a _few_ ready so that he could test them out on her.

A mantra... what had Professor Snape said about them?

Ginny took a deep breath and calmed herself down. Memories from the weekend kept on flooding through her brain and the whisper of _Harry..._ was permanently in the background, but every time intruding thoughts grabbed her attention she forcibly made an effort to concentrate on that last session. Thursday seemed half a year ago, but she remembered what he had said: "_A few sets of words that put me into a calming state. They are born from a memory. Thinking first of that memory, then of the mantra, puts me into a state of serenity where nothing can touch me because I am nothing._ _Eventually you will not have to recall that memory. All you will have to do is repeat the mantra to yourself and the feeling associated with it will flood through you._"

So her mantra had to be something powerful. Something that completely consumed her. Well, if that was the case, there were many memories she could choose from.

And not all of them good.

From the Gryffindor tower to the Room of Requirement was a six minute slow walk. She would give herself two minutes per mantra. A "few" was three right? Surely she could come up with three...

. . .

Snape sighed heavily. She was either late or she wasn't coming. He didn't blame her. He didn't want to be here anymore than she did. Especially after the weekend. The best thing for them would be to never have any forced interactions again.

And then he heard footsteps. Slow and steady. No rush to them. Only a purpose. He sighed. She was here. He felt his stomach drop a bit; he had been hoping that she would not pitch up. At the same time though, he felt a bit proud; she _had_ pitched up. Typical Gryffindor.

"You're late," he growled as soon as she came around the bend.

"Yes, sir," she answered with no emotion in her voice. She had a small crease between her forehead – the same one she got when she was desperately trying to stay calm and think clearly. It was the look she got when she was pushing memories to the back of her mind and trying not to think of them.

She was trying to concentrate. Good – he needed to concentrate as well. He would keep this professional. He had organised these lessons before their relationship had taken a turn for the worse and he wouldn't let that affect them. He had made a promise. He would keep it.

Snape turned around automatically as Ginny Weasley activated the Room. When he turned back, he saw the door that marked the entrance to their customary classroom. Ginny opened it and walked through, only to stop suddenly. Following, Snape saw why. The Room had changed just slightly. The table and chair on wheels were against the wall, leaving the middle of the room open. But it was the floor that had changed; it had a spongy feel to it a little like a foamed-up carpet.

"I didn't want to get hurt," explained Ginny with a slight red flush to her cheeks. Snape hated how he had noticed the flush. Even more how the flush made him look away as if he had seen something inappropriate.

Clearing his throat, he walked over the bouncy carpet to his desk. There, sitting serenely, was the Pensieve. Carefully he extracted some of his memories. They were now easy to differentiate from the others, mainly because of his continued extraction of them.

Then he turned and faced Ginny. She was staring at him with both apprehension and something else in her eyes. Excitement? He couldn't place it.

"On the count of three, I will be performing Legilimens on you. I have explained the theoretical aspects of this process. I have told you of the Receiver's and the Holder's roles in this process. I have also spoken in detail of the various methods available to the Holder to protect their memories from the Receiver," Snape assumed his lecturing stance, hands behind his back, as he allowed his black eyes to convey everything that the rest of his body would not. _"You are going to hurt,"_ said his eyes, _"You are not going to be able to resist,"_ they said. _"Nothing I have taught you will help you now..."_ they whispered through their depths. And Ginny, knowing all this, merely accepted it with a gulp. "Last lesson I instructed you to come up with a few mantras so as to attempt a block through Force. This is the method whereby you empty your mind of all thought and become nothing. We will attempt this now."

Ginny barely had a moment before Snape had twisted his arm from behind him, drawing his wand in a flourish faster than she could follow, and said, "One...two...three..._Legilimens_!"

She had never felt anything so forceful. So intimate. So imprisoning. She was stuck in her own mind. She saw images blur past her mind's eye. She tried to push past her own memories to the one that would help her.

_Running down the stairs of her house, only in her pyjamas, because a letter had come from Hogwarts. She was in! She was finally going! Her mother wrapping her arms around her in happiness, but at the same time staring at the price of the new books she would have to buy._

_Staring in disbelief at Professor Lupin. Then at her hand. What had happened? He had touched her hand to correct her wand-hold, and something had gone through her. A knowing beyond her knowing. He was something _different_. But what she had no idea._

_Standing in front of the fireplace, Floo Powder in her hand, watching as her family demonstrated to her how to use the Floo Network. So nervous. But she couldn't be scared in front of the Twins. So in goes the Powder, and then Ginny, and then she's spinning and spinning and spinning..._

_And then she was standing in a classroom, all the rest of the class had been sent out already. Now it was just Snape and Ginny. She was angry. So very angry. But then just a finger touch and there was nothing..._

_Nothing..._

_Silenced with a touch. Silenced with a touch. Silenced with a touch._

The feeling was spreading through her. _Silenced with a touch_. He had touched her forehead and everything had disappeared. She had felt nothing. Her mind was her own. Her thoughts were under her own control. Nothing. _Silenced with a touch._

Touch.

_Professor Moody had slapped her hand. She had been reaching for a jar, not fully realising what was in it, but the whole class wanted to see it closer. "Do you realise what could have happened to you if that jar broke? CONSTANT VIGILENCE! If you don't know what's in it, don't go blindly reaching for it! Test it first! I expected more from you Miss Weasley – especially after the stories I've heard of dark objects around this school!" She was shocked...Not because of the talking too she had just been given, but because again she had a Knowing beyond her knowing. He was something else. Some_one_ else. Touch._

_Silenced with a touch._

Ginny forced the thought through, trying to get back to her previous state of nothingness, but still the Link pushed on her mind, pushed her back into her memories.

_She was standing with her mother, barely three, while her father stared disbelievingly at a paper on the table. "I don't think we'll make it through this month unless we sell. We can't keep the house at this rate," said her father. "Yes we can keep it!" stated Molly. "We'll just have to squeeze a bit, that's all. And I'm sure I have some heirlooms somewhere that I can sell. We can do this, Arthur." "Alright, dear. I can believe in you..."_

"STOP!" yelled Ginny. It took her a moment to realise she was on the ground. The spongy floor soft against her cheek. She blinked her eyes. A throb was starting up at the back of her head that was making her eyes water. She felt like she had been hung upside down for too long.

"Get up," spat Snape. "_Silenced with a touch_? That was your great Mantra?"

Getting shakily to her feet, Ginny said, "Well, yeah, that was one of them."

"It's _weak_! You didn't feel it strongly enough! You didn't allow it to consume you! It must be your _only_ thought. Don't lose track!"

"It's difficult not to lose track, ok?" shouted back Ginny, which only made her head throb harder.

"At this rate I'm going to know your whole life in detail... not a proposition I am at all happy with. And that wasn't even a brush of a Link. Those were _surface_ thoughts that I was aiming for!"

"And you think I'm happy with you seeing into my head? _You_ get to hide your deepest darkest thoughts in the Pensieve, but I'm just a book you can open at will and read!"

"A _book_?" whispered Snape. "I thought by now you would know that the mind is a much more complex item than a book that can be opened and read. It has convolutions and intricacies that must be manoeuvred. Movement must be planned and directed so as to identify each memory in its singularity. What is it with students that they believe the mind to be as simplistic as a book?"

Snape sighed. Miss Weasley and Potter were sometimes so alike it was maddening. No, it was not merely them. It was this whole new generation of witches and wizards.

"Sorry," whispered Ginny. "I have other Mantras. Let me try them out. They might work better."

"Hmm, alright," he said, not at all convinced but readying himself once more. "Again, on the count of three. One...two...three..._Legilimens_!"

This time she knew what to expect, but the blow was still too much for her; it knocked her back, pushing her into disorientation.

_She was dancing in a pretty dress with Neville. The dress had been horrible but she had managed to transfigure bits of it and change the colour so now it looked almost like the new dress Pansy Parkinson had spent Galleons on. She was quite proud of it. But now Neville was looking shiftily at his feet, making his dancing even worse than it was a few seconds ago. "You want something to drink?" he asked. "Sure," she agreed, happy to get off the dance floor. "I'm almost as bad at dancing as I am at flying," Neville was saying as they walked towards the drinks._

The thought was there, she was reaching for it. She caught at a word in the memory and used it to push past the link, searching for the memory that she needed for her mantra. Instead of the Link opposing her, however, it turned with her thoughts and increased the momentum.

_Flying. It was their first lesson with Madame Hooch. She stood over her broom and said to it, "Up!" And the broom obediently lifted to her hand. She felt it buzzing, ready to lift to the skies._

The memory was not the one she had been planning on, but she could use it. She forced through the blur of images and concentrated on that first time legitimately mounting her broom and feeling that this was right...that she could go anywhere...do anything...All she had to do was...

_Turn with the wind. Turn with the wind. Turn with the wind._

_Wind._

_She was flying high up, her eyes searching frantically for the snitch. She saw it, but directly behind it she saw him...he was watching their game even though his team wasn't playing. He was here for her. She hesitated, the Snitch disappeared, and only his eyes made her get back into the game. Snape was watching._

_Turn with the wind! Turn with the wind!_

Snape couldn't – mustn't! – know what was going through her mind at that time! That game...it had been just after she had kissed him...And with the thought came the memory.

"_But I've never been, er, overly-powerful," Ginny frowned. "I know..." Snape whispered slowly. "You-you know?" asked Ginny, her voice rising. "Then when did this-this-this thing start happening to me?" "I believe that it may have happened in your first year." "That's why you've been nice to me all this time?" she asked. "You think that something happened in the Chamber! You just want to diagnose me? Watch me? Investigate me?" "No," Snape was shaking his head sadly, "I've been nice to you because I want to help you." "I need answers, Professor," she said before she lowered her head and kissed him._

This time Ginny felt the pull as the Link exited her mind. She also felt her head beat extra hard, somehow lying again on the ground. This was not going according to plan at all. Flying was the one emotion that she could bring up at will. The sensation of falling, the feel of the wind in her face, the fight against the odds as she willed her way forwards... apparently that wasn't enough either.

But the memory had brought forth something else as well. A question.

"Do you still feel the same way, sir?" she asked, getting slowly to her feet again.

"The same way as what?" Snape asked, his face an emotionless mask, his voice bored.

"Do you still want to help me?"

Snape stared at her and silence filled the room.

"I am here, am I not?" he said pointedly. "Despite all that has happened, I am still here. You told me that actions must reiterate words. Is what I am doing not proof enough of my intentions to help you?"

"...Yes, sir," said Ginny hesitantly. "I have one more Mantra that I would like to try out. If you would let me?"

"That is why we are here, Miss Weasley. One...two...three..._Legilimens_!"

She watched his eyes disappear as the Link hurtled into her mind.

_I am a secret._

The Link pushed harder, it latched onto a stray memory.

"_Hey Ginny!" shouted Michael. "That hex was absolutely brilliant! When did you get so good?" "Ah, well, Michael, you know how these things go. Practice!" She winked and laughed._

_I am a secret._

The memory was pushing back. It was fading. Michael's dark hair and eyes were slowly disappearing.

_I am a secret._

The probing Link found another memory.

_She was sitting on a rock by the Lake, watching a giant tentacle make ripples that lapped slowly at her rock. A book lay in her lap, its pages slowly absorbing the ink that was just written on it._

_I am a secret._

_Now she sat in a room, so large and vast it appeared to go on for an eternity. And yet it was full to the brim with forgotten and hidden objects. Before her was a broken mirror, a part of it still clinging to its immense frame. It was at this frame that she was staring, trying to make out the massive words written across its top, even though half of it was missing. The mirror itself called to her and she looked to it...in it..._

_I am a secret. I am a secret. I AM A SECRET!_

And then she was. She was in her chamber. No one knew about her. Of her. She was nothing. No one would ever find her. She was finally alone. She was warm inside. She did not have to worry about anything anymore. She was a secret...

A secret.

"_A secret_?" asked a voice. It did not come from outside. It was from inside her head. Where no one was supposed to be. Where no one _should_ be! Didn't she promise herself? Years ago now, didn't she _promise_ herself that she wouldn't let anyone else in her head?

"_You cannot hide from me,_" laughed the voice. "_I am you now. I told you, it is too late for Ginny Weasley. She's long gone, and will never come back."_

But Ginny wasn't going to let the voice intimidate her...not again.

"_It's not too late for me! I will come back from you! I will heal! I will get better! You can't keep control of me forever!"_

_But Tom laughed and the words "I am Lord Voldemort" burned into her mind._

I am a secret...

. . .

Ginny fluttered her eyes as the light bounded around the room off of the blackboard.

"I was going to give you a potion if you didn't come round in another two minutes," drawled a voice somewhere above her.

Blinking back the light, Ginny saw Professor Snape leaning against his desk, nonchalantly holding his wand.

"A potion? Or something else?" asked Ginny as she eyed the wand in his long fingered hands.

"Maybe both," he shrugged. "I tried to _enervate_ you, but either you are immune to the spell, or it was not strong enough to pull you from your passed-out state. I reckon the latter, although I wouldn't mind testing the former a bit more..."

"Considering it was _you_ who put me in that "_passed out state_" I don't think the former needs to be tested at all."

"Implying that I purposefully knocked you out to such an extent? My my, aren't you a chirpy one in the mornings?"

Grumpily, Ginny got to her feet.

"What happened then, if you didn't knock me out?"

Snape shrugged.

"There are many theories – "

"I don't want theories," interrupted Ginny. "We have too many of those already. I want your thoughts."

"We are here because of _your_ thoughts, Miss Weasley, _not_ mine."

Ginny growled.

"Ok, what did you see?"

"Everything..." whispered Snape. "Although that just made me think more. You were out for a reasonably long time. The room, with all of the things, and the mirror...where was that?"

"Here," Ginny said, spreading her arms out to the room.

"Here?"

"Yes, that room that you saw is another of the Room of Requirement's forms. I found the mirror this year when I first started using the Room for my own...er...purposes."

"Interesting...and the voice? Where does it come from?"

"You heard the voice..." Ginny was resentful. She didn't want anyone to know about the fight inside her head.

"Yes, I heard the voice," stated Snape. "I also saw the writing. When did that happen?"

"First year," mumbled Ginny. "Tom Marvolo Riddle. It's his name, just muddled up."

"How does that voice get in your head? It did not feel or sound like a memory to me," said Snape. Actually, the way the Link had twisted within his power had felt all too similar to how it had felt with Potter just yesterday evening. It had slipped through the mind to something...more... And then it hadn't let go. That was probably why Ginny had fainted; it had taken double his energy to release the Link from that deep part of Ginny's mind.

"It's always been in my head. Since that time, I mean. It, er...it whispers to me."

"Whispers to you?" asked Snape, his curiosity peaking.

"Yeah... it, er, it usually says "Harry" a lot, but every now and then it comes out with something else. I can mostly block it out, but it must have come through while I was concentrating on my mantra."

""_I am a secret"_. Not a bad mantra – if you can get the emotion associated with it right. It would help if you had some assistance in that matter. Find someone or something to taunt you, to try and goad you, and then use your mantra to calm yourself down. It would help if the person you choose is seriously trying to taunt you, otherwise the farce will not help you in the least."

"Are you telling me I have to purposefully get someone to fight with me?"

"You're a Gryffindor, it shouldn't be too difficult," sighed Snape. "Consider it your next homework assignment. Now, however, we must go. I have classes to attend to, and you have to get to the Great Hall for breakfast before your little friends find you missing."

"One last thing, Sir," said Ginny hurriedly as Snape turned to gather his things.

"Yes?" he arched an eyebrow.

"The thing that we do whenever we see each other – the staring contest I mean... will that carry on?"

"Does it affect you so sorely?"

"Yes," she said immediately.

"It will end when you win," Snape said in dismissal.

. . .

"There you are!"

Snape froze, caught between sneering at the culprit calling to him or ignoring her. Neither seemed appropriate so he turned instead and gave a curt nod of his head.

"Implying that I have been nowhere else this whole time?" he said as Minerva made her way through the bustling crowd of students towards him. She had never quite mastered the art of parting students as well as Snape had. She stepped into the open ring around Snape, staring at the students who seemed to automatically manoeuvre themselves far away from the Potion's Master as if he was just another moving part of the castle.

"Well, no where that I've been able to find you. Where have you been?"

"Torturing students. Or maybe it's the other way around," Snape glared at a first year who squeaked and ran into another student.

"Definitely not," said Minerva in a flat tone of disbelief. "But that is beside the point. You and I have a job to do, and barely an hour to do it."

"A job?" asked Snape, feigning surprise.

"Oh don't give me that! When I was teaching you at school, your dry sense of humour was all very well, but now you're a grown up and you can't get out of detention that easily!"

"Why, Professor McGonagall, I _never_ got out of your detentions easily. I can assure you I used every skill I possessed at the time..."

"Very funny, Severus. Entrance hall. _Now_."

"Yes, Professor," drawled Snape, his lip curling up at the side. Snape knew she only wanted Snape to lead so that they could cut through the students quicker.

On the ground floor, Snape turned to Minerva.

"Which classroom is it anyway?"

"I believe room three – that way," and they made their way to the empty classroom.

Inside it was stuffy and something or other crawled away from their footsteps as they walked daintily between the tables and chairs.

"So what does Dumbledore want us to do with the room?" asked Severus, brushing his fingers in distaste over a dusty tabletop.

"We have to make it similar to Firenze's natural habitat. That would mean the Forest. With a clearing, I would assume, where he would teach."

"Hmm, living transfigurations? Or just simulations?"

"If simulations are all you can manage," smiled Minerva wryly, pulling up the sleeves of her robe and readying her wand.

"Ah, I see the student is about to surpass the professor," drawled Snape, whipping his wand to the ready. "I'll take the left, shall I?" and in a flourish the desks and chairs had rearranged themselves to form half a circle, a few leading towards the door. Taking a breath, he focused on the furthest chair and table combination and started throwing transfiguration spells towards them, chanting under his breath. The wood of the table and chairs started to shimmer a yellow glow, slowly growing hotter. Then a branch shot out of the table top, reaching for the roof. Then others followed it, each sprouting and reaching upwards. A winding trunk formed, sprouts splitting and growing from its base. While the table came to life, the chair fell to the ground, nothing but a compost heap that littered the floor. Then the compost bubbled as growths split it from the bottom up, grass slowly pushing its way towards the open air.

Snape dropped his wand and looked at his handiwork. A tall tree stood firmly rooted in the ground, covered in autumn coloured leaves, its base surrounded by lush green grass.

"Not bad, Severus," said Minerva. "But a little slow, don't you think?"

Snape turned and arched an eyebrow. Whereas he had done only one tree, Minerva had already made up four!

"Quantity versus quality, I reckon," he said slyly.

"I don't know what you mean – I have both quantity _and_ quality in my trees."

"Yes, trees with _no leaves_."

Minerva turned with a gasp, and sure enough there were no leaves on her trees.

"A minor setback," she mumbled and raised her wand to the first tree.

Snape turned back to his lot of chairs and tables, and began working on them again.

"There!" cried Minerva half an hour later. "_Now_ I'm finished."

"Uhhuh," said Snape disinterested.

"I am a perfectionist, Severus. You must give me some artistic leeway."

"We had to make the roof look like the night sky, not increase its depth and allow for weather patterns as well."

"But now it's more _authentic_, wouldn't you agree so?"

"Yes, Minerva, much more authentic..."

"Don't you go giving me lip, young man."

Snape grunted.

"You _are_ a young man! And speaking of which, when are you going to get yourself a decent young woman?"

Snape grunted again non-commitantly.

"Severus..." said Minerva in a warning tone.

"I do not see the reason for me to 'get myself' anyone," he answered.

"Alright, I just don't think it's very healthy."

"Healthy?"

"Well, you are surrounded by students all the time, Severus, and you are a young man after all – "

"Minerva, please tell me you are _not_ suggesting that I would look to a _student_ for my personal needs?" Snape blurted out.

Minerva put up a hand quickly, "I was not suggesting anything, Severus. However, it might not be for personal needs so deep as what you are insinuating. Now normally I would not intrude, but since she is one of my students – "

Snape sighed and ran his hand through his hair, knowing exactly where Minerva was going with this.

"– I just happened to notice that you and Miss Weasley seem to have a, er, _thing_ going on. The whole of yesterday you stared at her whenever she came across your path, and I couldn't help noticing her running off in tears after the one encounter. Now I'm not saying that it's a very bad thing for you to get to know your students, but this psychological game that you are playing with her is detrimental to her educational growth! Surely you can see that, Severus?"

"If you must know, Professor McGonagall," said Snape once Minerva had finished her soliloquy, "I am currently giving Miss Weasley extra lessons and she deliberately stepped over a personal line. She went into my personal quarters expressly without my permission, and while I trust so _surely_ in our Points system, I felt that a little extra...begrudgment would send the message a bit more firmly."

"So _that's_ why you were so angry at her? During the Mr Corner debacle? I tried to uncover what was going on and she was not very forthcoming. I thought maybe some encouragement would do her some good. You are not a very easy person to get along with at the best of times, after all."

"I do not deny it, but she broke my trust – something I do not give out lightly."

Minerva sighed.

"You can't give her a second chance, can you?" she asked.

"No, Minerva. In life a second chance means nothing but another debt to pay."

Minerva shook her head sadly.

"You are nothing but a life full of oxymorons, Severus."

"I know," he said simply, and rose. "I have a class soon. I am sure Firenze will be happy with what we have achieved here."

"Yes," agreed Minerva, "I think he will be happy. Thank you for your assistance, Severus."

"Any time, Minerva. Oh, and about Miss Weasley, keep an eye on her – she may want to let out her frustrations onto the other students."

"To be honest Severus, I don't blame her," and she dusted herself down and swept her way over the green grass to the door and let herself out.

Raising an eyebrow, Snape followed at a more leisurely pace.

. . .

"I can't believe this is a classroom," whispered Ginny. All of the students in Ginny's fourth year were talking in hushed tones as they gingerly crossed the fresh grass towards the clearing. She felt as if she were in the Forbidden Forest, in the parts where first years definitely didn't roam freely.

"Welcome, all," said a voice, followed by a few muffled _clop-clop_s of hooves, and then there stood Firenze, standing serenely on four sturdy horse-legs under his trees, as if a forest in a castle with a Centaur were the most normal things ever. "Please find a space on the ground and make yourself comfortable."

Ginny looked to the ground and found it littered with fallen tree trunks and some large stumps that could take four people easily. She settled herself on the grass instead, leaning against the closest tree. The tree felt cool against her warm skin and she felt something else in it...she could feel the magic reverberating off of it. She sighed in contentment; the magic felt good too. She looked up and couldn't help but let out a small "Oh..." as she saw the stars. At that moment a streak lit up the night sky above her, and a shooting star flashed through the still-standing stars, leaving behind only a memory on the insides of Ginny's retinas. She closed her eyes and breathed out a wish, "Forgive me..."

But then Firenze was starting with his class and she had to rouse herself to take notes.

It was unlike any other class she had ever had. Firenze kept on changing his mind as to whether humans _could_ or could _not_ see the future, and just when Ginny thought she was grasping the concept he was talking about, all of a sudden the whole concept would take a turn and she would be stuck in the deep again. Divination would never be the same again with Firenze as their teacher.

The bell rung and Ginny couldn't help but jump. The Forest was so real she had forgotten she was actually inside the castle in an actual classroom. There was the normal scatter of students as they gathered all of their belongings and then they stood to be dismissed. On the way out, however, Ginny turned back to her new Professor.

"Excuse me, Sir?" she enquired politely of Firenze.

"Ginny Weasley," acknowledged Firenze slowly, his huge eyes surveying her from his high vantage point. One of his hooves stomped at the ground and his tail whipped back and forth slowly.

"Yes, Sir, I, er... I just wanted to thank you, for what you did for me."

. . .

Snape had not meant to pry. He had waited for the class to leave and then slowly stepped into the classroom – intending to find out if Firenze really _did_ like his new classroom or not – when he had heard talking. He had waited, politely, behind a tree for the talking to end, trying not to listen to the conversation.

"I just wanted to thank you, for what you did for me," said the one voice. And that voice could only belong to one person. There was an awkward silence, where Snape pictured Ginny staring at the ground as a flush crept up her neck as it always did with him.

"I did not do it for you, human girl," said Firenze eventually. "I did it for myself."

"Oh..." said Ginny. Snape thought of her bright eyes opening in surprise as she tried to figure out the riddle that she had found herself in. "Either way, thank you. I was really stupid to run to the _Forest_ of all places. I guess I was just looking for trouble."

"Yes," said Firenze in his cool voice, "you were."

"Yeah. I was," admitted Ginny. "I wouldn't have made it out there if it wasn't for you though. I was a real mess. I hope you didn't get into any, er, trouble or anything? With your herd, I mean..."

Snape frowned. When had Ginny run away to the Forbidden Forest? Ah, yes; it was when he had come back from his Spy duties with that stupid head wound and she had kissed him when he had fainted. Afterwards she had run to the Forest. And then disappeared for quite some time. Potter had asked about her during their Occlumensy Meeting. Wait, why was he remembering _that_?

"Ginny Weasley, the culture and structure within a centaur's herd is not for the discussion of Witches or Wizards – never mind young students."

"I didn't mean for you to tell me or anything. I just wanted to say thanks...so, er, thanks."

There was a crunch of leaves as Ginny turned to leave.

"Ginny Weasley," called Firenze suddenly, "you must experience the Power of Mars before you can overcome Mars. You have forgotten what that is like. That is all."

Snape stepped out of the shadow of the tree before Ginny could find him lurking there. He walked purposefully towards Firenze, making sure his feet made crunching sounds underneath him. He completely ignored Ginny who glared at him at each step.

"Firenze, I am glad to find you free. A word?" asked Snape.

"Of course, Severus Snape," Snape tried not to grit his teeth at the Centaur's obvious lack of title. The horse called Dumbledore _Professor_, the least he could do was address the rest of them the same. "Ginny Weasley, I believe you have another class to attend."

Snape watched as Ginny stomped away from them, transferring her anger to her feet. He waited for the stomps to cease before he carried on.

. . .

Like _hell_ Ginny was going to leave those two to talk alone! Firenze was way more interesting than Professor Binns in any case, and to top it off she might learn something more from listening to Professor Snape and Firenze than anything she would hear in History of Magic.

So Ginny stomped all the way to the door, opened it and closed it, and then tiptoed back up the pathway, using the trees as cover. She found the tree that she was looking for and gently lifted herself up into its branches. Carefully she climbed through the large tree, its magic humming through her palms, and nestled herself in between two branches to listen to the conversation below her.

"So everything is to your liking?" enquired Snape.

"Yes, thank you Severus Snape, the transfiguration has been adequately performed."

"Adequately?" and Ginny had to stifle her giggle as she saw his eyebrow rise. He always used the left one when he wasn't concentrating on it, she knew now.

"There are a few requirements that may have to be adjusted, but I trust I can ask whenever that is necessary?"

"Naturally," Snape nodded in agreement.

There was another of those silences you could expect from Centaurs. Firenze stared upwards at the sky, his eyes marking a constellation. "You have something else you want to discuss," he said eventually, although his eyes never left the star-strewn sky.

"Yes, it is about Hagrid's _little problem_," Snape got straight to the chase.

"I have already spoken to Hagrid, he will not listen to me."

"Nor me, however I have an idea of someone who might make him see reason."

Snape let the Centaur drop his gaze from the stars and settle on him instead before he continued.

"Harry Potter," he said. Ginny had to clamp her hand over her mouth in fear of her gasp being heard. Snape was actually speaking of Harry without his usual sneer. Without his usual venom. Actually, he was speaking of him as if he was worthy of being spoken of!

"I do not follow you..." answered Firenze.

"Hagrid will listen to Potter. Or at least accept assistance from him. If you want to fix the problem, involve Potter."

"Your plan is a relatively good one."

"Potter has his uses."

"No," Ginny saw Firenze shake his head and his tail flick in irritation. Apparently he did not like humans' thought patterns. "The plan you are currently implementing with the beast."

"Ironic coming from you," sneered Snape. Firenze grunted in annoyance but he did not rise to Snape's taunt. Ginny felt completely lost. Hagrid had a problem? And Harry could help? But Snape was already trying to do something that was kind of helping... What was the problem? Why was Firenze talking about a beast? Ginny didn't put it past Hagrid to bring a crazy wild animal near the grounds, but surely he wouldn't ever jeopardise the student's safety by bringing it too close?

"The beast must be trained, not tamed. Combat is its most natural reaction and if you can overcome the communication barrier, it might be of use... in the future..."

"In the future?" drawled Snape.

In answer Firenze merely said, "Mars is bright. So is Venus. There is a war coming."

"Your prediction is a couple of years late to impress me."

"Your decision was too late to change anything. We have read the stars. The thing you fear most will come to pass."

"The thing I fear most has already happened," snapped Snape in so much bitterness Ginny shrunk back into the crook of her tree.

Firenze just smiled a sad smile and flicked his tail back and forth a few times.

"If you are done, Severus Snape, I must prepare for my next class."

"Yes," Snape nodded his head in agreement, "so must I," and he turned and left, Ginny noticed without so much as a crunch of leaves.

Letting out her held in breath she turned and started her slow incline down the tree. Touching down she brushed her hands off on her robes and turned. Right into the chest of a horse. Or, in this case, a centaur.

"Er," she began.

"Class, Ginny Weasley," was all Firenze said, and although it was said relatively calmly his brown eyes held a shimmer of suppressed anger. His tail twitched. Ginny didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

**(A/N: _So how did you enjoy it? Quick Question: who do you think is Ginny's best friend? I've been thinking of bringing in Luna - her character being so awesome to write - but I may need some support before I do that...Although I'm very much against making my own characters unless 100% necessary. Next chapter coming soon! WonderwhiteRabbit hopping off)_**


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